#but everything else is normal? it’s just this one toilet? like I even get have the like lid being off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ikeuverse · 29 days ago

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FAV PERSON IN THE WORLD — p.jongseong

PAIRING: uncle!jay x fem!reader GENRES: angst, fluff WC: 3.6k+

WARNINGS: mention of food poisoning, mention of vomiting, mention of food too. just a completely sensible uncle jay, not a lot of warnings. lmk if i missed anything.

SYNOPSIS: jay has always put his nephew above all else, loving him unconditionally. but one incident – completely normal – makes him question whether he really is a great uncle.

NOTES: i made a poll a while back about uncle!enhypen. originally my thought was not going to be for jay, but this idea flooded me and i simply had to write. that's all! hope you like it.

masterlist

The Park family parties were memorable. Whether it was a simple dinner or lunch, or a completely glitzy birthday celebration, that was the purpose, even more so after Oliver, Jongseong's nephew, was born.

During the boy's twelve years, every birthday Jongseong made a point of working hard on the decorations, attractions, and places where the parties would take place. Elaborate halls, the backyard pool at his parents' house. Even renting a home on the beach and spending the weekend when Oliver turned eight, he told Louise and Heeseung, Oliver's parents, that he would give them this gift. Now, the famous twelfth birthday is coming up and it couldn't be any different.

The day started off bright for Jongseong as if he were turning another year older. But with the birth of Oliver twelve years ago, everything changed in uncle Jay's life. He was always loving and did everything for his sister, but after his nephew was born, everything was for him. All the extra attention and love Jongseong got was for Oliver.

The packets of sweets he brought on the way home, made a point of stopping by his sister's house just to say hello to the little boy. Let Heeseung and Louise deal with it, he wasn't there to see them. Jongseong had known them forever, and they got the attention they deserved. Now it was the youngest's turn to have it all.

And that's why the boy decided to dedicate one more moment on that date to Oliver's day. From the moment Jongseong woke up, he kissed you good morning quickly and left the house to pick up the little one. The two of them would go out for a walk and buy something, whatever he wanted. Then they would get ready for the big night in a hall with an arcade and lots of video games. The perfect place to turn twelve with school friends and close family. It was an exciting adventure and they both looked like two excited kids. Oliver, incredible as it seemed, was more restrained than his uncle.

But Jongseong couldn't have predicted when things would go wrong. Least of all eating so much candy before the big party would result in a boy bent over the toilet vomiting for the fourth time in less than thirty minutes.

He felt terrible. The worst uncle in the world for not foreseeing that mixing ice cream, a snack with an extra layer of cheese and lots of soda could weaken Oliver's stomach. Let alone that it would ruin the party he had planned for a month.

“What's up, buddy?” Heeseung leaned against the doorframe, sighing defeatedly when he saw his son throwing up again. Jongseong didn't want to leave his nephew's side for a second “Louise is with Y/n at the pharmacy to get the medicine, I think I'll get him some more tea—”

“Dad, no” Oliver took a deep breath, his head close enough to the toilet to echo the sound throughout the bathroom as he spoke “I can't take any more tea.”

“But it's great for the stomach, buddy” he said, “and your grandmother always gave it to me and Uncle Jay when we had… food poisoning.”

“When you were both drunk enough, right?” Oliver laughed, looking at Jongseong and then at his father, slowly raising his eyes and taking a few more breaths. It had been a few minutes and he had stopped vomiting, at least “Mom told me that story once.”

“Your mother's a big mouth” Jongseong grimaced, sitting down on the bathroom floor next to his nephew, occasionally running one hand over his back “But your granny's tea does cure everything the stomach is capable of rejecting.”

“I don't want to…” he whimpered, feeling his stomach ache. There was nothing left to put out and he believed he had already thrown up enough. His head was aching, his whole body as fragile as a sheet of paper. Meanwhile, Heeseung felt his heartache at seeing his son like that, but it was nothing compared to how Jongseong was feeling.

It was all his fault. If the two of them hadn't gone out that morning and eaten everything in sight, at least Oliver would be well enough to enjoy his birthday party. Or if he had been a slightly more responsible uncle, he would have put a limit on what the two of them could eat. Jongseong could have listened to you that morning when you told him to be careful because he should save himself for the party at night, but he didn't. He wanted to do whatever he wanted. He wanted to do what the little boy wanted and enjoy it with him. Now he was paying the price and with an even heavier heart.

“Uncle Jay” Oliver's voice echoed in the older man's ears, making him abandon his thoughts and focus on what he was saying. The pale face and watery eyes staring at him made Jongseong hold back the knot in his throat that was beginning to form.

“Yes?” he tried to say in a firm voice, almost cursing himself when she faltered.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

That I'm the worst uncle in the world.

The sound of the door opening, conversation, and footsteps on the floor below spared Jongseong the answer he wanted to give. He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard his sister's voice talking to Heeseung and the sound of her footsteps hurrying up the stairs.

“Son” she came into the bathroom, a bag in her hands, rummaging through whatever was in it in a bit of a hurry “Your aunt and I talked to the pharmacist and he gave me this medicine here” she took the small bottle from the bag and knelt down next to Oliver and Jongseong. She tried to smile at her brother, giving him a little more comfort. Louise knew how crazy her brother was about his nephew, she admired and loved it so much “You can have some, yeah?”

“Mom” he pouted, his corsican eyes almost begging for nothing else to enter his mouth apart from that bad tea he'd been drinking all along.

“Please, I promise you'll get better soon, okay?” she knew he would. That medicine was the salvation of all problems.

Still hesitant, Oliver kept looking at his mother with his Corsican eyes, almost pleading. There was a clear resemblance to Heeseung and a little bit of Jongseong. She smiled as she opened the bottle and poured in the amount indicated on the lid, which could easily serve as a mini cup.

As if asking permission before anything else, Oliver's eyes focused on Jongseong and how he still stared at his nephew. He didn't care if his mother was right there, she was the one who had to say yes or no to him. But his uncle's opinion and acceptance were more important than anything.

Nodding slowly, Jongseong seemed to encourage him, giving him a quick smile before his eyes focused on his sister. Louise raised the medicine to her son's lips and slowly made him take it. Even with grimaces and noises of denial, Oliver drank every drop until there was nothing left, holding back the urge to get it all out. But he knew that if he did that, he'd have to take the medicine again, and he didn't want to go through that twice.

“Now you're going to be fine, my love” she sat down across from him, kissing him on the top of the head.

Oliver disentangled himself from the toilet to snuggle close to his mother, her lap making him feel a little safer and less vulnerable than he was. Jongseong slid down a little further, leaving that moment for his sister and nephew to enjoy together. But he didn't go that far as he felt a small weight on his arm, Oliver's hand slowly sliding down and pulling him a little closer.

He smiled faintly, looking at Louise and Oliver hugging, and staying in place. That moment calmed his nerves a little, although he still had the thought that he'd ruined everything.

You didn't have to say a word to know that Jongseong had been wanting to fall apart ever since he left Louise and Heeseung's house. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, not saying a word to you. Just nodding now and then when you asked something and murmuring in agreement when you tried to break the silence. The air was getting heavy as the two of you arrived at the shared apartment.

Jongseong was never one to get up front, always waiting for you with his hand resting on your back. Exchanging a few kisses here and there and playing with you even if the day had been the worst of all. But at the end of the day, with the weight on his shoulders, he went up to the apartment floor while you opened the back door of the car to get your coats and your travel bag. It had been intended for the change of clothes from the party, but with the event, everything was postponed and you had your clothes and your husband's in that bag, carrying it into the apartment.

When you entered the shared space, the only noise coming from inside was the shower, indicating that Jongseong would already be in the bath. It would probably take longer than usual. He spent a considerable amount of time under the shower when he had a particularly unbearable day at work, so you couldn't even tell how long he would be taking today into account.

Leaving the travel bag in the corner of the sofa, walking into the kitchen and leaning on the counter, thinking about what you could make him eat, or even thinking about how to talk to him to try to find out what you could do. It also left you feeling a little lost. Jongseong's love for Oliver was clear, and in the boy's twelve years, you'd never seen his uncle so shaken up.

Of course, things had happened, like Oliver breaking his knee while Jongseong and Heeseung were trying to teach him how to ride a bike. Jongseong let a tear fall when he saw his nephew whimpering. You secretly helped him clean up, managing to say words of comfort that he soon understood. Also remember the time Oliver got into a fight at school for the first time; the contrast that was Heeseung a little dazed, trying to talk peacefully to his son and teaching him that things could be solved with dialog or that he could talk to the teacher. Jongseong, on the other hand, was asking who had pushed him, and if he had fought back and was hurt. Oh, he was going to that school the next morning to get some satisfaction!

You laughed alone at the little thoughts surrounding your husband's relationship with his nephew, wondering what it would be like when you and he had a child too. Jongseong was the most loving and protective guy you'd met since the day you became best friends with Louise in college, seeing the way he treated his sister among so many frat guys. Caring brother and, a caring boyfriend. You've been lucky since the day you started dating him.

The sound of the shower turning off woke you up from your nostalgic thoughts, so you thought you should take some action instead of standing around thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Jongseong was probably taking his time drying off, applying some cream, and changing his clothes. That would give you time to open the fridge and see what you could make for him. Maybe cut up some fruit and put it in a small bowl with honey… That would calm him down somewhat. Alcohol, no way. Jongseong would bury himself in a whole bottle of whisky and soon you'd be just like him and Louise, holding him down while he flushed everything down the toilet just like Oliver that same day.

The sound of distant footsteps gradually approaching made you smile a little. The fruit was already cut, a good amount of honey was poured over the slices and you walked over to the cutlery drawer to pick up a fork. Your gaze lifted to the figure that had just entered the kitchen.

“Hey, love” you greeted him with a smile, only to be greeted with a weak smile back. He approached you in slow steps, without saying much, dragging his slippers across the kitchen floor until he stopped next to you.

“Hi” the husky voice whispered, which you only heard because of how close you were to each other now. Otherwise, sure you would have asked him to repeat it.

Jongseong's hands gripped your waist, slowly pulling you towards him as you placed your fork on the counter and flattened your hands against his chest. From that angle, with your face close to your husband's, you could see how red his eyes were. The pigment trailed down to the tip of his nose. His cracked lips were a little darker in color, perhaps Jongseong had bitten so hard that he almost hurt himself, not wanting you to hear him cry in the shower.

“Jay” you whispered, raising one of your hands to touch his face. The subtle touch of your fingertips was too much for him to bear, and he felt his eyes sting again and couldn't hold back the urge to shed even more tears.

His heart was aching, each salty tear running down his cheek and being wiped away by your fingertips. You pulled his face a little lower, resting your forehead against his and letting him cry as much as he needed to relieve what he was feeling. Even if you wanted to stop it all. Jongseong needed to let it out a little more, to feel vulnerable enough to be trembling in your arms. His fingers wrapped tightly around your waist, squeezing you as if he didn't want to let you go.

“I—” he sobbed, swallowing a large ball of saliva with the amount of anguish and pain that lingered in his throat “I'm a terrible uncle— Shit, Oliver's going to hate me for the rest of my life” another sob, this time a little louder.

“Baby, hey” you were desperate to make him stop thinking that kind of thing, Jongseong's sobs only making it worse “Look at me, please” your plea ignited something in him, the tone of your voice being soothing, even though the boy was still in tears. His eyes quickly forced themselves to focus on you, even though his vision was blurred, he looked at you.

The broken look and trembling lips made you let out a sad sigh at the sight. Very few times have you been able to see him like that, and each time it was even more heartbreaking.

“I made you something to eat and, well…” you looked between his eyes and his entire tear-soaked face, painted a light pink against your husband's tanned skin “How about we go to bed and do that?”

“All right” Jongseong's voice was hoarse and shaky, he just obeyed you. You didn't have the strength to challenge anything while you felt that he was still holding you, with no indication that he was going to let you go.

You didn't mind doing everything for him. From holding his hand to picking up the container with the other and walking with him to the bedroom. The instructions for him to sit on the bed while you left the jar of fruit with honey next to the bedside table, now focusing on taking off your clothes for the day and replacing them with a large, baggy T-shirt that Jongseong had bought for himself some three years ago. You stole it, and he never cared.

Walking towards him, his tearful eyes and quiet position sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard made you smile again. He looked like an older baby, pouting without realizing it as you approached and stopped next to him on the bed. Your husband's eyes followed your every move as you propped yourself up on the mattress enough to get close and sit against his lap. Bending down far enough to pick up the fruit jar and plunge your fork into a very red strawberry filled with honey on top.

“Open your mouth, young man” you ordered, noticing that his eyes shifted from you to the pot, only realizing at that moment what you would give him to eat. Jongseong was so engrossed that he didn't see anything, only the moment a strawberry was hovering over his face. He gave the first laugh of the night, slowly moving his body beneath his.

“Did you put honey on all that?” he asked, trying to sound a little firmer as he opened his mouth to eat the fruit. A sound of contentment came from his lips, knowing how much that sweetness soothed him. Even after years of doing this, Jongseong never thought that a sweet liquid could do wonders for his body.

He ate in silence, letting you feed him each fruit, now and then asking for an extra amount of honey, only to smear it on his lips and wipe them with a small smile.

“Thank you” he said, feeling satisfied almost halfway through the pot. He held it in his hands, placing it back on the bedside table so that you were free of any utensils while he wrapped his arms around your waist. Burying your head against his chest and feeling your arms encircle his neck.

“I love you” you whispered softly, your lips between black hair with the scent of freshly washed shampoo. You gave Jongseong's temple a quick kiss, sliding your lips down to his forehead to linger there. The skin you loved so much slid over your lips until you brushed your forehead against his “And you know you didn't do anything wrong, right?”

“But—” Jongseong sighed “Look at everything I've caused, Y/n. You don't have to say that to make me feel better.”

“But I'm not doing that” your hands rested on his shoulders, sliding down to grip either side of Jonseong's neck. With their foreheads still together, you could feel his breath against your lips every time he said something.

“I ruined Ollie's birthday, he's got a bad stomach because of me—”

“You made his twelfth birthday very memorable” you interrupted him, seeing the boy's curious eyes quickly go to yours, searching for some answer or continuation of what you were saying.

“We had to postpone his party, love.”

“But you spent the whole day with him” you said. “Love, you're Oliver's favorite person. And even without a party, he just wanted to spend time with you, and that was worth it.”

Is he his nephew's favorite person? Really? Jongseong's eyes practically begged for it to be true, that you weren't talking out of your mouth.

“Did you see him complaining about the party being canceled?” you asked your husband. He tried to search his memory during the turbulent hours between seeing his nephew fall ill and how much he ran so that the little boy wouldn't throw up on the way. But he couldn't remember a single moment when he had even mentioned the birthday party.

“He didn't even mention the party” Jongseong whispered, watching your smile widen a little more as he came to his senses. That was what it was all about.

Oliver didn't care about the party, although the family always liked to celebrate. He just wanted to spend time with uncle Jay, to take part in all the adventures his uncle provided. The party was just a complement to the day because everything was worthwhile from the moment Jongseong arrived to pick him up and spend the day with him.

“Not to mention the fact that he'll take this with him for life” you left a quick kiss on Jongseong's lips “Can you imagine him remembering that he was sick on his twelfth birthday because uncle Jay took him out?”

“Do you think he'd remember?” he laughed a little, returning the kiss once more. Feeling your lips on his slowly chased away even more of the bad sensations in his body.

“Actually” taking advantage of the fact that his mouth was still pressed lightly against yours, you whispered, sliding your lower lip between his lips. One of your hands went up to Jongseong's face, caressing the skin of his cheek “Imagine Oliver telling our son how insane it was to spend his twelfth birthday next to his uncle?”

“Oh” he laughed against your mouth, sliding his teeth over your bottom lip slowly “How about we practice on that now, then?” you felt Jongseong's hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the flesh on either side before pressing your hips a little closer to his. You let out a laugh, slowly opening your mouth.

“I think that's a good idea” you said.

That was a great way to let all the stress and worry out of Jongseong's body. With the thought that he was the favorite person in his nephew's life, that hadn't made him such a bad uncle. Add to that the desire to make real the thought he'd had of a mini Jay or a mini you sitting next to his nephew, listening to the crazy stories he and Oliver had told over the years.

Maybe one slip-up and one memorable story wouldn't make him such a bad uncle after all.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #jay fluff #jongseong fluff #enhypen jay #enha fluff #jay angst #jongseong angst #enhypen angst #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enha fics #enha angst #enhypen masterlist #enhypen imagines #bay writes.

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alfredosauce50 · 6 months ago

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Parent headcanons: Alfred, Allen, Matt, & Mathias

When it comes to the trials of adulthood, they have their own ways of getting on top. But parenting is what really puts them to the test. Starting a family and being one of the sole carers for another person will shine a light on the best and worst parts of them.

The big news

Alfred

He has the most normal reaction out of the four. Panic, acceptance, then excitement, he’s finally moving onto the final stages of adulthood and achieving his lifelong dream. Being a suburban dad and getting that white picket fence. It’s not just about liking kids, Alfred is rather traditional when it comes to his values; he has always romanticized the American dream. He already has a good job, all he needs is to make it happen.

“Fuuuuuck,” He whispers, eyes wide as he rakes his hands through his hair. He stands there for a few minutes, staring into space as you watch him tensely for his reaction. “We’re ready to be parents, right?”

Allen

He will freak out. Planned or unplanned, he’s not mentally prepared to be a father. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, but knows deep down he has to be. That’s what really scares him. If he needs to improve himself, it’s now or never. So after a week of panicking and catastrophizing, he’s ready to give himself a second chance — even if it’s for someone else. But his selflessness is key to his perseverance, and eventual success.

“I fucked up,” He squeezes you like a lifeline. It was the only conclusion he could come to after hours of talking about it, the only thing he could ever truly understand. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mathias

He’ll be over the moon. He’s gonna be even more excited than you, but that’s kinda given when he doesn’t have to carry the baby and deliver it. Point is, Mathias is very family-oriented, so don’t expect anything less. He’s the most self-affirmed a person can be too, so he’s always ready to move onto the next stage in life. His nurturing character and openness to change will help you immensely in periods of stress and uncertainty.

“I’m so happy that I could cry,” He whispers with his head on your tummy. He’s half-awake after burning out from his own excitement, but his spirit is still in the right place. “We’re finally gonna have a family.”

Matt

Letting you into his life was already a miracle, and now he’s gonna be a dad? This is a human being that he’ll have to be responsible for, not something he can simply tap out of and run away from. Matt is driven by his interests, solitude, and above all else, his freedom. A baby would take away all of those things, and he’s so troubled by it that he disappears for a few weeks. He comes home to a slap, but it’s well-deserved.

“Are you gonna keep hitting me, or are you gonna let me go to my shed?” He sighs, closing his eyes as you keep wailing on him. And he just takes it, absorbing every strike that was your burning love for him.

“Why, so you can keep—” You shove him harshly so that he actually stumbles back. “—hiding from me?”

“No, I’m gonna build a crib and make some toys.”

Parenting style

Alfred

He’s everything you’d expect from a new parent. Freaking out over the little things, screaming when they do something new, burning out after weeks of sleep deprivation, etc. He isn’t perfect, and you’re gonna have to work with him like any other partner, but before you know it, the house is filled with photo frames. He’s your best friend, and sometimes before your partner, so he has a hard time giving and taking. But it’s also why you two will stick together through thick and thin.

Alfred eventually evolves into the archetype of fathers. He takes the backseat and tells his kids, ‘I don’t know, go ask your mother,’ or even gets in trouble for doing stupid things like leaving the toilet seat up. When you just finished yelling at the kids, he comes to them later and goes, ‘someone’s in a bad mood today,’ when he’s just glad it wasn’t him. But when it’s something really serious, he flips like a switch and takes the lead. When that happens, there’s no talking him down.

“Alright gang, ready to get the show on the road?” Alfred rubs his hands together excitedly before he starts the car. “When we get there, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. I’m already on thin ice.”

He has high expectations for his kids. Ever since they popped out, he’s been giving them the best of the best, like nice clothes, family trips, sports leagues, and dance. He also wants them to go to a prestigious university in the future and to do all the things he might have missed out on. Cue the ‘that’s your dream, not mine, dad!’ Alfred can be hard on his children when it comes to success, so you need to remind him they’ve got minds of their own and are not carbon copies of him.

He says he prefers sons until he gets a daughter. Alfred is an absolute sweetheart to his girls, and is way more lenient with them than his boys. He doesn’t mean to play favorites, but it’s just how he’s wired. However, it also means being quite strict and protective when they get to that age. No drinking and no sleepovers with boys present. Men are all animals according to him. But dad, aren’t you a man? Exactly! He’s the pioneer of ‘anything you do to my daughter, I do to you.’

Allen

He tried his absolute best to prepare, but it starts off a disaster. What can go wrong will go wrong. The baby gets sick, you’re away on urgent family business, so he needs to do it all without you. Allen stays in hospital with the baby overnight, and slowly, but surely, they get better. He ends up neglecting himself to put his child’s needs first, and by the time you get back, he’s burning up with a fever. But the baby is perfectly content and sleeping soundly in the crib because of him.

He wants the best for his family, even if it means sacrificing everything he has. He understands his limits, but there’s nothing he won’t do to make sure his kid gets every opportunity he never had. Sports, college, you name it. If everybody in class has branded sneakers, he’ll buy a pair just so they don’t feel left out. He’s always proud of his baby, and if anybody tried to bully them, they’ll have to answer to him. Allen sees the best of him in his child, but usually fails to see it in himself.

“You can have my egg. I’m not hungry, baby.” Allen says, sliding his plate to his little girl. He knows that you won’t be back with the groceries for an hour or so, and no kids are going hungry on his watch.

Allen doesn’t think there’s a particular way of parenting because no one child is the same. So long as they do their homework, get out under the sun, and have a good attitude, the rest is to be decided. If his child needs extra support, he’ll give it to them, and if they need a reality check, he’ll give that to them too. He reminds them how hard life can be without stability, so they should take their future seriously, but at the same time, he’s always gonna be there to give them a home.

Nobody would mess with his kids after one look at him. He’s an ex-marine without the ‘ex.’ His daughter will have trouble finding a boyfriend to begin with because of him, and when she finally does, they’re gonna have to gain his respect to be trusted with looking after his little girl. If his son ever gets into a fight, he’ll ask if he won then whoop his ass later. And in the principle’s office, he’s giving the other kid the worst stink-eye ever. He’s the dad that could beat up the other dads.

Mathias

He’s a total natural; all is well when the baby is in his care. He may be all over the place, but when he really cares about something, he’s in a constant state of hyper focus. The baby will always be clean, well-fed, and happy, so don’t worry about a thing. There’s also no such thing as 50/50 with Mathias. He knows that there will be times when one person has to take the lead. It’s not in his nature to keep track of who’s giving and taking the most. He’s too mature for that.

It’s like experiencing a second childhood for him. Reading picture books, fairytales, playing with legos, or going to places he went to as a kid, he treats parenthood as a chance to relive his best memories and love every second of it. He will never miss a parent event, performance, and appointment. His dedication makes him very perceptive of his child, so he always knows what to do or say to cheer them up. As they grow up, they maintain a very close relationship to him.

“We wanna go to Legoland!”

“You mean, you wanna go to Legoland,” You laugh at him, “I heard you talking to Bjorn about it last night.”

“That’s so he can make an informed decision, of course,” Mathias grins, not showing a hint of shame as he shuffles over with his phone on the home page of the Legoland site. “So I take that it’s decided?”

He’s a great parent, but he’s by no means strict. All he wants is for them to have a fighting chance in the world, like doing a job that they enjoy. He’s great at communicating with his kids and has a lot of compassion, which takes them a long way. He’s never had to discipline them besides setting boundaries and occasionally grounding them. You rule the home with a firmer hand, and maybe that’s why your kids respect you more but treat him more like a friend than a parent sometimes.

Mathias doesn’t bat an eye when his kids first start dating. He’s always been quite liberal, so he just tells them to be careful about the birds and the bees, then to talk to him if things get testy. The one thing he’ll do is to ensure they have high standards. Love is life’s reward, not something to cry yourself to sleep about. Eventually, he’ll invite their date over for dinner, and as it turns out, he’d be a great father in law. He’s very welcoming and treats any future Densens like one of his own.

Matt

He’s a trial-by-error, improvise as you go along kinda dad. He hasn’t put much thought into the trials of childcare, but he always works things out in his own way. If the bub keeps crying because they don’t want to be bottle-fed by him, he will cover his face with a picture of you. Easy-peasy. If they’re crawling around the bed, he will use them as a mousepad as he scrolls on his laptop. That way, he gets some leisure time while making sure they don’t actually go anywhere.

Matt is the opposite to a helicopter parent. When his kid trips and face plants into the ground, he doesn’t react. The trick is to not acknowledge it, because only then will they cry. He isn’t afraid to let them explore the world and gain their own agency. It’s good for them, he says. Some part of you thinks he just wants them to grow up quicker so he doesn’t have to take care of them anymore, but there’s always those special little moments.

“How about I teach you how to drive the truck?” Matt asks, walking back home with the family.

“He’s eleven.” You remark.

“Is that a problem?”

He’s all about the family business. If his children don’t want to go fishing and logging with him, fine, but if they show even the slightest bit of interest, he’s bought. Matt will be more than eager to show them the ropes. He takes them on camping trips to show them the beauty of the great outdoors, and the humility it takes to be apart of it. The art of it all is there’s no problem that can’t be solved, and even a rugged man like him can be domesticated by the right person.

If his daughter got a boyfriend, he’d be waiting at home with a shotgun. Matt will then play it off like he just got back from a hunting trip. He’s the type to use silent intimidation, and it works like a charm. If not, he’ll tell jerks to get off his lawn even though he doesn’t have one, and when they ask what lawn, he’ll just say “all of it.” What he means is to get out of his sight and the woods, which is the lawn he’s talking about. (Ha!) On the flip side, he’s nice to girls his son brings home.

Losing the spark

Alfred

He has a tendency to let himself go when he gets comfortable. This usually happens when his first kid reaches their teenage years and he can afford to sit back now that they can do their own thing. He’s established a stable family unit, but he takes that for granted and gets a little lazy. As a result, he packs on a few pounds and tries less in the relationship. He’s not as attractive as he used to be, and you’re having more petty arguments.

“Why do I feel like you hate me?” He watches you mop the kitchen after you told him to do it. Only he delayed it to sit around on his phone and eat crisps. Even then, he still has the nerve to be upset about it.

“I don’t hate you, I’m just annoyed at you.”

“But you’re annoyed with me everyday.”

Allen

Losing the spark? Not on his watch! He never stops trying, ever, and keeps chasing you like when he first started dating you. His stability doesn’t come from money, it comes from you. You’re his rock, and nothing else matters so long as you’re here. He’s the epitome of ‘you know how daddy is about mommy,’ and he’s proud of it. He also takes great care of his body, and with his good genes, he practically ages backwards.

“You better wear that button-down shirt tonight, Al. A tank top isn’t gonna cut it,” You tell him.

“You callin’ me a deadbeat?” He questions.

“No, but you dress like one.”

“I thought you liked my clothes, babe.”

“I do, but the teachers won’t.”

“True that.” He fixes his collar in front of a mirror. He peers at his reflection, marveling at how well he cleaned up. A dress shirt and belt? He’s practically unrecognizable — until he grins, that is. “Still got it.”

Mathias

He’s always gonna be young at heart, so his spirit never dies. His love for you is as constant as a river, and he’s not afraid of putting on a show for the kids to the point they get a little disgusted. (Ew!) He doesn’t think he’d ever be too old for romance, and his good faith shows up in how gracefully he ages. He might occasionally grow out a thick beard, and when he shaves it off, he looks devastating close to when he was younger.

“Are we ever gonna be alone again?” He mumbles, pouting. His thirtieth birthday is coming up, but he hasn’t changed a bit, save for the more pronounced smile lines around his mouth. “I need some love too.”

“We will, Mat. I just don’t feel comfortable leaving the baby alone right now,” You shake your head.

“We could call Amy and have a date night.”

“I don’t know, Mat.”

“I’ll shave off my beard.”

“Huh?”

“You wouldn’t say no to me without a beard.”

Matt

The longer he’s with you, the harder he loves. His feelings don’t change when things get hard, or as time passes. They just get stronger. In that same breath, he also ages like wine. In the end, he ends up being the bigger romantic. He used to be a lone wolf, and he thought he was okay with it, but now that he has you, he can’t imagine his life without you. To think you actually stuck around and gave him a chance, he’ll never forget that.

“Wanna go back inside and do it?” He mutters.

“You’re disgusting, Matt.” You walk inside without sparing him a single glance. No matter how old he gets, he’ll always have a mouth on him. No matter how old you get, you’ll always forgive him for it.

“Is that a no?”

“Make me dinner and let me think about it.”

“Deal.”

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prose-for-hire · 2 months ago

Text

Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Spike x Giles!reader

Part one of four! Be kind please💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.

You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.

It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.

You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.

You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.

You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.

You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.

You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.

“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.

“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”

“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.

You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.

“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.

You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”

“I like to think I’m not that predictable”

“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”

“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.

“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.

“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”

You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.

“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.

“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”

“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.

You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.

She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.

Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.

A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.

You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?

You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.

You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.

Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.

But he wouldn’t give anything away.

By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.

You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”

“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“You really are a bloody-”

“A what? Go on, say it!”

“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.

“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.

He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.

“I suggest you leave”

“What-?”

“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.

“You can’t mean that!”

“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.

You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.

You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.

You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.

You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.

“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”

You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.

You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.

“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.

“Why are you being nice?”

“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”

“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”

“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.

You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.

Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?

#spike btvs #spike x reader #spike btvs imagine #spike x you #spike imagine #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs

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noroi1000 · 1 year ago

Note

Gojo and reader are expecting a baby and started to playfully fight on what the baby's name should be! Fluff please!

Baby Name

Gojo x pregnant reader

Summary: Gojo comes up with names for your baby.

Words: 1k

"Toru, what are you doing there?" You asked as you felt your husband's head resting on your thighs and his forehead pressed against the bottom of your protruding belly.

You were lying on your back on the bed. You were letting your spine rest after a day of walking around with that little one in you.

Just like any baby in their mother's womb, your baby is calm if you do something. Then your body movements soothe the child inside you.

But when you want to rest, you feel it twist.

That's why you love the thought of having a husband for whom cuddling is very much needed in life because he likes touch.

More than once you have felt his fingers lightly squeeze your pregnant belly at night, rubbing your skin. Telling your child that everything is fine.

Then your child is calm, because it works like telekinesis, even if it's not there. Because the baby gives you rest for a while.

Instead of spinning around and making you constantly wander to the toilet.

You have decided to wait with the gender of your baby until birth.

As Satoru laughed when asked what his baby would be like, he replied that he didn't give spoilers.

However, it was getting closer and closer to the arrival of the 9th month.

You were already in the seventh.

You wish you already had a name for your child so that when he or she is born you will know how to speak.

You don't want to linger on the name for so long.

Probably Satoru too.

Because when he was lying on your thighs with his forehead on the bottom of your stomach, he was thinking about it.

"Satoru?"

"I think..." he muttered, looking at your belly as if he wanted to get an x-ray in his eyes and see the baby. Or he was looking for inspiration.

"You think what? Wouldn't you rather go to sleep?" You asked, feeling his head press closer against yours.

"How do we name the baby?" He said, placing his hand on your belly.

"Do you have any idea?"

You placed your hand on his. It was nice to feel his warm, big hands on your body.

Nice feeling. The warmth of his skin felt so nice.

"Mmmmm... Satoru junior..."

You laughed quietly.

"What if it's a girl?"

"Satori."

You laughed harder.

"Or (y/n) junior." He murmured, stroking your skin. "(y/n)ro."

You chuckled softly as you heard him trying to come up with a name for the baby.

It was cute and fun.

But you needed something else for your baby.

Something normal, but at the same time not the same as others. Not so common name.

Something rarer, but not such that everyone will wonder what that name is.

You just wanted your child, just like her/his daddy, to be special and one of a kind.

"Do you have any idea?" he asked, burying his nose into your skin. Making you laugh because of the tickling feeling.

"Why don't we pick something from the name lists?"

"How about Mochi?"

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Mochi?" you repeated.

"I love mochi! I love my baby even more! Boy Mochiro and girl Mochiko!"

You giggled as you heard his enthusiasm.

Mochiro and Mochiko? That sounds like normal names. But the fact that these names were based on one of the child's father's favorite sweets disqualifies these names.

If people knew that these names were created from the name "mochi", most would probably consider it abnormal.

But your husband just really likes sweets!

You were curious to see what else he would come up with.

That's why you've been waiting for more of his ideas.

"kikufuku?" He asked, resting the back of his head against your thighs as he stared at the ceiling.

"Baby's name?"

You weren't sure if he just got a kikufuku craving right now or if he was talking about baby names.

"You know... A name that starts with Kiku I Fuku. Together it's Kikufuku! Or Dango! No... Dango no. It sounds bad. Gojo Dango. Maybe Naruto? You know... Like those!"

"Naruto is an anime character." You laughed.

"I'll be a big fan of this anime if I name my child that... I don't want to... Well, how about... Pocky?"

"That sounds like a nickname."

"You're right..."

"It's a good thing you didn't propose to Wagashi."

"Can we eat?" He looked at you with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's night, Toru."

"Uggh... You gave me a taste for Wagashi..."

"Hold on until morning."

"I'll eat my little mochi!"

Suddenly, he playfully bit your thigh and belly, showing you what his mochi was.

"Don't eat me or our baby!"

"Name Dora or Yaki. Dorayaki!"

"Or something normal?" you asked nervously.

"Tako."

"Let me guess... Takoyaki?"

"Make me foody~... Baby..." he murmured, leaning up to meet your eyes.

"It's night. Satoru, I want to rest."

"Let's talk more about baby names!"

"Shall I name our baby by the name of the food?" You laughed and pulled up to push back on the bed.

He moved his head slightly to make room for your stomach.

Only now did you notice that he was lying on the bed with his legs sticking out of the mattress and his head was using your thighs as a pillow.

He smiled slightly and looked at you as you placed your hand on his forehead, stroking his soft hair with your fingers.

He stared at you with those beautiful eyes.

"Maybe Ao and Aka?"

"You want to call the children your Jujutsu techniques?"

"Better Ao and Aka than Murassaki. Hehe."

You slapped him lightly on the forehead for his laugh.

He closed his eyes with a toothy grin and reached his hand for yours, touching your skin as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Don't do this to our children."

"Children? So you want more than one?"

He gave you that trademark smile that would be very irritating if you didn't love him.

Oh yes... If you want to be pregnant more times in your life... He'll do it for you. And he'll love to look at you and keep coming up with a name for your next baby.

#jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #Gojo x pregnant reader #gojo x you #pregnancy

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strawberryblue-blog · 11 months ago

Text

She's mine too —Mason Mount.

summary: annoying days of pregnancy with mason

warning: none. pregnancy, vomiting, discomfort.

words count: +1.5k

#SEXYNOTE: Merry belated Christmas and early happy new year y'all 💌 thanks for the support, i hope you are well. love youuuu 🩵

You hugged the toilet after spitting up all the dinner of the night between sobs, you sighed taking a big breath of air, feeling your stomach churning again. It was the fifth time you had gotten up to vomit in the night and you were really exhausted. For at least a week you had been feeling this way but in the last two days, it had gotten worse and you couldn't even feed yourself properly as you ended up vomiting.

Did your son or daughter hate you? It was practically thanks to you that he or she was coming into this world, and this is how he or she thanked you? By making you spit out everything you ate? By making you feel so fragile and silly at the same time? You wanted to stay cheerful, positive and full of energy but your baby was slowly consuming you. This was nothing like what you used to hear about pregnancies.

You had never been through anything before and it really scared you. The doctor had said it was normal as long as you had constant checkups and you just had to put up with it, even though it was very hard for you and especially for Mason. Sometimes he felt that what he was doing for you wasn't enough and he hated to see you suffer but it wasn't his fault and it would pass. You sighed whimpering a little, anyone would say you were exaggerating a little (and maybe you were) but you were really suffering. Since four months ago your body had changed, your fears had become constant, dizziness, mood swings, tiredness, breast pain, you had even become irritable. Sometimes you felt guilty but it was inevitable, the baby was running your life (Not really).

But you had no regrets.

Being a mother had been one of your dreams growing up, you used to say you wanted to be like your mother and you really hoped you would be for this child. You were discovering this whole new world and you have to admit you thought it would be something else, at least you had a great man by your side. Mason used to make your endless days, the best experience of your life. He would massage your feet, fulfill your every whim, pamper you and take care of you like you were a princess.

You couldn't complain, you were perfect together and starting a family with him was another one of your biggest dreams. Because you loved everything about him, about the relationship, the respect and love you had. Because you admired how strong and respectable he was and how he behaved with you, your family and friends. Because you were in love with him and that your son had him for a father, it was the biggest pride you could feel.

A hand on your back caressed you, pulling your hair back into a makeshift bun. Mason held your hair and calmed your nerves as he appeared behind you. You hated waking him up in the middle of the night with your retching, especially since you knew he'd have to get up early in the morning but Mason was always with you.

"Don't tease me like that" you laughed exhaustedly after a while. "That's the reason i'm here, puking up everything i ingest."

Mason hid a chuckle behind his smile, trying not to laugh at your funny comment because of the situation you were going through. But it was inevitable, even in misery you were saying funny things to him.

"You suggested doing it, honey. If you had stuck it out, we wouldn't be here," he replied, earning a pout from you.

And it was true. Maybe if they hadn't had too many drinks that night and you hadn't been so horny, nothing would have changed and you wouldn't have found yourself right now. But you wanted this as much as he did, because you were talking about this and about the future, and this was the future, you becoming parents.

After a while without nausea, Mason took you in his arms, slowly carrying you toward the bed. He handed you a glass of water and when you drank some, he helped you lie down on the soft sheets, arranging the pillows on your back to make you comfortable.

"I must look terrible" you whispered a little shaken. Your cheeks were red, your forehead sweaty and you sure looked gross right now. Mason quickly denied.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world" he murmured with his eyes sparkling. "You'll bring our child, you could never look terrible" his fingers caressed your face. A smile appeared on your lips as he kissed your forehead softly.

He took his place beside you, resting his head on your belly as he wrapped his arms around you. One of his hands caressed the protruding bump, which was growing bigger and bigger every day. You didn't know the sex of the baby yet but everything was within the norm for a pregnancy, something you were grateful for, and they were supposed to have news about the baby by the next visit.

"Baby, leave mommy alone for a while, okay? She's mine too" he whispered towards her son or daughter, drawing a smile from you. Your fingers tangled in her hair, stroking her chestnut locks. Your chest overflowed with feelings seeing him there and your heart filled with happiness at the image.

Mason on top of his baby, caressing your skin with his warm fingers, his eyes shining in his wonderful gaze. The reason for your happiness in front of you, your whole world. Your eyes filled with tears and you try not to cry but you were sensitive, everything hit you double, more when it was about your son and your boyfriend.

You were both terrified, you weren't going to lie, but since the test had come back positive and after a few months of waiting, you were ready for what was to come. You had learned to love each other, you had each other, you trusted each other and you were walking on the same side. Everything had been easier, since you knew Mason, you were always supporting and loving each other.

"The boys want it to be a boy to teach him to play football but honestly i want it to be a girl" Mason whispered turning back to your chest, still her hand held on the baby, caressing it.

"Is that what you want?" you asked with a giggle. Mason nodded. "Even Summer would take care of her and teach her" you mentioned and your heart fluttered with love as you imagined your boyfriend's niece with your daughter or son.

Mason smiled hugely.

"I want a boy too, of course. But we'll have time to bring him along after the baby girl" he joked with a grimace. You laughed out loud.

You were excited for the arrival of their son or daughter, they were counting the days since they had found out and memories were piling up in their memories of this special time. The wait was going to be hard but it would definitely be worth it when you had him or her with you.

#football imagines #football one shot #imagine #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount #manchester united #strawberryblue blog

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lovebugism · 11 months ago

Note

blurbcember request! : missing their loved ones when everyone else spends time with theirs w either Steve or Eddie x reader <3

thank u for requesting angel!! — you spend the holidays with the munsons after losing everything at the battle of starcourt (established relationship, hurt/comfort, tw for mentions of grief and panic attacks, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

It hits you out of nowhere. The weight of unimaginable grief.

You’re on Eddie’s couch one moment, laughing into the hot cocoa he made you — and the next, it’s 1985 and you’re at Starcourt all over again.

You can smell the ash as the mall burns to the ground and feel the evening mist soak your skin until your clothes stick to you. Your throat burns with the ghost of the scream you let out when the soldiers told you your dad died.

You didn’t react. Not at first. You figured it must’ve been a mistake. That’s what you told them — you’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong. You repeated those words until they turned to sobs.

Steve took you in his arms before you fell to the ground. Then you screamed. You don’t think you stopped screaming until your body shut down from the exhaustion.

You feel like that all over again. Five months later and you haven’t stopped reliving it.

Eddie knows. He can see all of it. You’re as bright as sunshine one second, then as grey as rain the next. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened to you — what really happened to your father or why you were at Starcourt in the first place — but he can tell it did a number on you.

He tries hopelessly to make it better. “You alright?” he mutters to you. His arm around your shoulder tightens to keep you from straying any further. His ringed fingers squeeze gently at your arm, and you remember where you are.

You blink until the haze fades and nod on instinct. It’s muscle memory now. What could he do if you were honest? you wonder to yourself. What would it change?

“Is it the hot cocoa?” he asks, even though he knows that’s not really the problem. He wants to bring the light back to your eyes, maybe, or just get you to talk at all. “I made it with water this time instead of milk. Do you want me to—”

“No. It’s okay,” you interject quickly, voice meek and taut.

“Okay…” Eddie wavers and tries to settle back onto the couch. It’s hard to because he’s so tense now. He’s rigid with the knowledge that something’s wrong — with the heartache of not knowing how to help you.

You curse yourself when the tears come on.

They burn the very backs of your eyes, stinging like falling ash from burning flames. You can smell the smoking brick and the blood and the cologne of the Russian soldier that nearly killed you. You’re on Eddie’s couch, but you’re back there at the same time.

You know you shouldn’t be crying, but you don’t know how to make yourself stop.

You blink hopelessly at the ceiling and pray that your blurry vision will clear before the tears spill over. Then you start to sniffle, and your emotion becomes rather obvious. You don’t want to cry. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Eddie.

“Can I— uh— can I use your bathroom?” you stammer, trying to sound halfway normal even though the words come out coated with wet emotion. You’re looking ahead of you instead of over at Eddie — ‘cause you know he’d see right through you otherwise.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he answers, a little confused because you stopped having to ask a long time ago.

He wants to ask you what’s wrong, but you’re gone before he can. His cold hands curl around his warming cocoa, fidgeting because they don’t know how to do anything but hold you.

You sit on the lid of the toilet seat and run the faucet while you cry. You bury your face in your palms, rocking back and forth in a feeble attempt to comfort yourself because you’re still learning how to do that on your own.

You’re so used to calling your dad the second something goes wrong. You don’t know who you’re supposed to lean on now. Eddie, maybe — but who are you to put that weight on him? He’d carry it no problem, but the burden shouldn’t be his.

You just wish you knew where to put it, all this grief you have.

For now, you bury it with the tears you pour into your palms. When you manage to coax yourself to stop crying and get your panicked breathing back to normal — in for 4 counts, hold for 7, out for 8 — you flush and wash your hands like you were doing anything but breaking down in Eddie’s bathroom.

You can’t get anything by him, though. Literally. ‘Cause you nearly run into him when you leave.

He’s idling awkwardly outside the door, looking almost as surprised to see you as you are to see him. Chocolate eyes wide, pink mouth softly agape, bushy brows raised beneath his curly bangs. “Shit— Sorry—” he stammers.

You sniffle and hope you don’t look like you’ve been crying too hard. “What are you— What are you doing?” you ask, voice weighed down with leftover emotion.

“Nothing. You just— you looked a little upset, and I wanted to check on you,” he shrugs, trying to play it cool. Then he gets awkward and cowers. “And I was gonna knock, but… then I got… nervous.”

You’d fake a laugh if you thought it wouldn’t take all the strength you have left. Instead, you shrug and pretend like everything’s still normal. Pretending is all you have now, anyway.

“I’m fine.”

He knows you’re lying. You always look down at your feet before you lie. Your eyes are swollen and glassy, too. You’re obviously everything but fine, but he doesn’t want to press the issue too much. He doesn’t want to make the unknown any worse.

So, in lieu of a thousand things he could say, he asks you — “Wanna smoke?”

You don’t smoke. He just doesn’t know how else to get you alone like he wants.

You nod because you know he’s trying.

His racing heart settles a little.

You end up on the edge of his childhood bed while he finishes off a joint. The scent is a comforting one — slightly skunky, but mostly of Eddie’s sweet cologne. He lies on his back while you sit above him, knees curled behind you with an arm beside you to prop up your weight.

His chestnut curls are sprawled out along the plain grey sheets. His eyelids are heavy, gaze as dark as melted chocolate. His lips are rosy, and so are his cheeks after a couple hits. He looks a little like a Renaissance painting.

Eddie, meanwhile, is still stewing in his worry of you. He’s happy to sit in silence, though. Mostly because he knows you don’t mind it, either.

“How do you always know?” you blurt before you mean to.

He grows suddenly alert at your question. “Know what?”

You shrink inside yourself because you hadn’t meant to say that out loud. You were so deep in your thoughts you were practically drowning in them — swimming in oceans of grief and love and everything in between.

You’re lucky you found Eddie when you did. Luckier ‘cause he always knows how to handle the mystically delicate being you are. You don’t know how he does it.

You stammer for an answer. “When I’m… I didn’t know… When I’m—”

“Sad?” Eddie finishes for you.

Both of you know it’s deeper than that, but you nod anyway. “Yeah…”

He shrugs lazily. “I don’t know… I just have a sense for it, I guess.”

“Like Spiderman?” you tease softly, a quiet smile hinting at the corners of your lips. Your nails scratch gently at his scalp. He leans into your touch like a cat.

Eddie grins wider, happy to see you happy. “Exactly like Spiderman.”

“Wow… I can’t believe my boyfriend has superpowers.”

“Well, you better believe it, baby. ‘Cause I know every-thing that’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Your hand stills and your eyes go wide. You don’t want Eddie in your head. It’s too messy in there. How will he still love you if he knows all the darkest parts of you?

“That’s a scary thought,” you say, trying your best to laugh it off.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he assures in a voice so soft you could cry. His palm is warm as it rises to smooth across your jaw, ringed fingers calloused and gentle on your cheek. “It’s not easy for you to tell me what’s going on a lot of the time, right? So I gotta use my super cool mind-reading powers to take care of my girl, you know?”

You love him so much you could cry. You don’t want to cry, though. You’re far too happy for that.

You don’t realize how big you’re smiling until Eddie smiles back at you.

“See?” he singsongs to you with a pink grin on his lips. “Not so scary, huh?”

“You make everything not so scary,” you insist quietly, your smile even quieter. “Like a teddy bear.”

Eddie beams at your words. If he can make all the bad things he can’t see not so bad for you, he’ll wear the title of Teddy Bear with pride.

His arms curl around you in a flash, dragging you down to the mattress so he can wrap you in a smothering hug. You squeal a laugh into his shoulder. You forget to be sad.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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lovelyhan · 2 years ago

Note

enemies to lovers prompt #10 "I'm not driving home with you..." with mingyu, thx <3

— vices & virtues ⟢

being from one of the most opulent families in the city, you're used to getting everything you want. but when you realize that your hot bodyguard is strictly off-limits, you treat him like anything else you can't have: with unbridled hostility.

★ FEATURING; bodyguard!mingyu x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.4k words

★ TAGS; enemies to lovers, unresolved sexual tension, smut

★ WARNINGS; alcohol consumption, cigarettes, implied/referenced drug use, self-destructive behavior in general, (probably inaccurate) discussions about drug poisoning, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; when i tell you i speedwrote this just in time for mingyu day,,, eugh i love you so much gyugyu and thank you to the anon who sent this in a while back!! this prompt was so tasty to work with!

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, couch sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, dacryphilia, size kink, mating press, overstimulation, creampie

★ SVT TAGLIST; @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex - @stariightjoyy - @asjkdk - @horny4hoshi

★ MINGYU TAGLIST; @ @renjunphile - @acgyu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pluviophile-xxx - @pretty-trustme - @zeenanigans - @noveniadelia

When the tiniest sliver of consciousness slips into your inebriated brain, you feel the cold tile of the bathroom floor being pried off your face. Well, more like you're being gently lifted off it, and into the arms of someone warm.

You nearly lean into their embrace until you catch a whiff of that familiar, musky cologne with hint of something like pine. It takes you some effort to keep yourself from bolting out of his grasp and retching your guts out in the toilet again.

You deign to squint your eyes despite the harsh fluorescent light razing your vision. Looking down on you is none other than Kim Mingyu, gaze as indifferent as ever. Unfortunately, you're too drunk or high to figure out how he even found you here, but you know there's no weaseling your way out when your father's little lapdog has tracked you down.

"What're you doing here?" you still ask even if you knew the answer.

It's my job to take care of you.

"It's my job to take care of you," he says the words in the same way you imagined him to—apathetic. Indecipherable.

"Fuck you. I don't need you to take care of me," you scoff. "My friends'll drop me off at my apartment like they always do."

Mingyu rolls his eyes. "You mean the same friends who called me because they're tired of having to clean up after your shit? I don't want to be here either, princess, but I'm actually getting paid to keep you in line, if you hadn't known that yet."

There's something so unfairly attractive in the snark in his tone, and you fucking hate him for it. Mostly, you hate yourself for even thinking that anything about Mingyu is remotely alluring.

In the end, you just tell yourself that you're an objective person. You have eyes, and it won't cost anything to admit that Mingyu is conventionally attractive. Even if you did hate his guts.

Not that he'll ever hear you admit that aloud, though.

You're vaguely aware of how the hem of your too-short dress rides up your thighs as Mingyu rises back to his full height—having no problems carrying you out of the bathroom bridal-style.

Under normal circumstances, you would've struggled. Proved that you could very much handle yourself despite being obviously hammered. But your head is spinning, and your limbs feel like they'll disintegrate any second.

Eyes closed, you press your face into the fine fabric of Mingyu's suit—breathing in the same scent that repulsed you not five minutes earlier in an attempt at anchoring your consciousness.

As Mingyu maneuvers you out of the bathroom, the loud bass blaring from the speakers at the frat party you've decided to attend last minute rings in your eardrums. You don't have to see your surroundings to know you've got onlookers. Those unsubtle comments are clue enough to know you're being watched.

Who is that? Her boyfriend?

No, idiot, that's probably her bodyguard or some shit. Her family's loaded as fuck.

So lucky. If I had a bodyguard like that, I'd totally let him smash.

The real question is: would he let you smash?

Fuck you.

You want to flash them the most disgusted look you could muster. As if you'd stoop low enough to fuck Mingyu, of all people. Don't they know who you are? You could easily let any man or woman you wanted on their knees for you.

You were supposed to stick to your regular routine of getting railed into the next day after a few drinks and sticks, but you obviously got a little too excited about the new strains your friends snuck into the party. Now you're being princess carried by a man you absolutely despise, too shit-faced to even be remotely desired by anyone else at the moment.

Still, never in a million years would you consider having this guy as a bodyguard lucky.

You can tell you're outside when the music starts to fade in the distance and the cold starts to prickle your legs and arms. A somewhat coherent part of you recalls leaving your designer jacket in the coatrack of the frat house, and if you weren't so fucking shit-faced, you would've yelled at Mingyu to go back and get it.

But just before you can consider asking him somewhat nicely, you hear him unlock a car that definitely doesn't sound like yours—making your ears perk up, and your consciousness flood back in much faster.

"What are you—?"

You thrash in Mingyu's arms until he lets you down on the ground—throwing him a stone-cold glare right after. The fact that your pedicured feet are in direct contact with the asphalt makes your rage spike further. How dare this asshole leave your Valentinos behind? He might as well have just left you at the party altogether!

"I'm not driving home with you," you growl.

Mingyu's expression doesn't even budge. "You're not driving. I am."

"Don't try to be fucking smart with me. I'm high, not stupid."

Folding your arms across your chest, you try to pretend that you're not in the middle of the street, arguing with Mingyu as your blood pressure rises to unimaginable heights.

Unfortunately for you, this isn't the first time your friends have left you in the quote-unquote capable hands of your bodyguard. But every time he did, he would always drive whatever car you chose to bring for the occasion and drop you off at your place.

When he brings a car of his own, however...

"You're bringing me straight to the old man," you grumble. "You think he'll appreciate seeing his daughter all wasted at three in the morning? You think he'll be happy with you when he finds out you let me sneak out like this? Are you stupid or do you actually want to get fired?"

"And who told you I was going to bring you to him?" Mingyu shakes his head, letting out a long-winded sigh. "Like I said, I don't want to be here either. The last thing I need is even more overtime after your father sets you straight."

That makes you pause, eyes widening with a hint of mistrust. Mingyu listens to every word his employer says. He's the perfect little lapdog. So perfect that sneaking out for these nightly escapades of yours have grown increasingly difficult with how good he is at finding you and bringing you home.

So hearing him practically say that he won't tattle on you...

"How can I be sure you're not fucking with me? That if I fall asleep in the car, I won't wake up in the courtyard of the old man's stupid mansion?"

"Do I look like I have the energy to deal with both of you at the same time?" he replies sharply, opening the door to the passenger seat with a hint of finality in his actions. "Just get in the fucking car so we can all head to bed before sunrise."

The sound of the house party still in full swing echoes in your ears from the distance. Your skin tingles a little beneath the heat of Mingyu's mildly pissed off gaze, and you let out a shuddering breath to keep yourself from giving the feeling a name.

"Fine."

...

Good news: you made it safely back to your apartment without anyone alerting your father about your true whereabouts.

Bad news: Mingyu just won't fucking leave.

He insisted that you get yourself refreshed with a shower first before he talks to you in the living room. The same guy that right-out said that you should hop in the passenger seat of his car so you'd both be asleep before the sun rises. The clock is already pushing past four in the morning, and Mingyu still insists on lecturing you before he leaves?

You of all people know how obstinate he can be. He's even more stubborn than you are, if you're being completely honest. So even if it wounds your pride to play along with what he has planned, you head back to your living room right after slipping on your usual nightgown—flashing Mingyu a look to remind him you're not at all pleased with whatever bullshit he wants to talk about.

However, your irritation ebbs a little when you see a plate of your favorite cookies sitting on the coffee table, along with a glass of water and a sheet of Advil.

Your gaze drifts from the snacks to your bodyguard, who looks more dressed down than usual. His coat is folded neatly, hanging off one side of your couch, and the first three buttons of his dress shirt are undone.

You gulp, prying your eyes off the sliver of chest he's willingly exposed before seating a respectable distance away.

"What did you want to talk about?" You try to sound casual as you leaned forward, reaching for a cookie and the glass of water without as much initiating eye contact.

"You smoked a few joints at the party, didn't you?"

You take a bite, washing it down with your drink before replying with, "So what if I did? A little kush isn't going to kill anybody, Mingyu."

"We both know 'a little' doesn't exist in your vocabulary, princess," he points out, crossing his arms with an unimpressed look. "Anyway, I'm not your father, so I typically don't care about what drugs you're taste testing every night—"

"Are you implying that you suddenly care now?"

"With a new poisonous marijuana strain circulating in the underground market? Of course I do."

You do a double take on that, staring at him hard as you begrudgingly swallow your cookie, "What? Underground market? And what do you mean poisonous?"

Mingyu lets out another sigh when he leans forward to reach for the box of cigarettes and a lighter you left strewn across your coffee table. You're even more surprised to see him lighting himself a stick and taking a drag than you were when he prepared some snacks and water for you.

"Some Columbian drug cartels thought it would be funny to infiltrate surface-level drug transactions. Long story short, they invented some fucked up strain laced with belladonna and smuggled it into the market under the impression that it's a new sativa strain."

You absolutely have no idea how Mingyu even got ahold of this information, but realizing the implication of his words has your stomach sinking with dread. If what he's saying is true, it's no wonder you were out so fucking quick tonight.

"I'm not gonna die within twenty four hours, right?" you half-joke because, Jesus, you're adventurous with your drugs, but you wouldn't willingly take something that can actually kill you.

To your relief, Mingyu shakes his head. "I don't know the science behind it either, but I was told sativa tones down the poisonous effect of belladonna by a huge margin. The worst you'll experience is a fever and a nasty cough if you don't do anything about it."

"Gee, way to be reassuring."

Mingyu scoffs before taking another drag of his cigarette. Your gaze is riveted on the cut of his jaw as he inhales the smoke with eyes closed. It's only when he flicks the ashes in a small ashtray you left by the small table beside the couch that you realize he's pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows—exposing a good deal of his toned arms.

You immediately take a huge gulp of water, not wanting such unsavory thoughts about an unsavory person to surface now, of all times.

You might be more refreshed after your shower, but if you're starting to ogle Kim Mingyu, the strange joints you've been hitting all night might've messed with your head more than you thought.

"That's why we're going to the doctor tomorrow—"

You scowl. "Like hell I'm going to pay Doctor Yoon a visit. That guy's the biggest tattletale in the world. He'll definitely tell the old man. Oh, and I actually have classes tomorrow if you're forgetting, Mingyu."

"You're pretending to attend those now that it's convenient for you?" He smirks as he breathes out another puff of smoke. "Nice try, princess. But don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll take you to another doctor I know—someone who won't get us both in trouble by telling your father that you've been smoking bad weed."

"Again, way to be fucking reassuring."

The silence finally settles as you nibble contemplatively on the snacks he brought for you. You're can say for sure that you're most certainly sober now, so Mingyu's words have got you thinking.

But it's a little difficult to think about the state of your health when you've got a sort-of uninvited guest manspreading right next to you on the couch.

"Aren't you going to leave?" you ask. "Just text me what time we're going to visit that doctor friend of yours."

"How would you feel if you got told to scram while you're in the middle of a smoke?" Mingyu flashes you an annoyed look. "For the third time, I don't even want to be here, princess. At least let me have this as compensation for saving your sorry ass."

He's so fucking infuriating.

The rough undercurrent in his voice. The perpetual upward curve of his lips as if he always has the upper hand. His beefy arms. His built chest.

...Not to mention his unexpected thoughtfulness when he decided to stick around and inform you about what you might've gotten yourself into instead of leaving you to fend for yourself. He even brought out your favorite cookies for good measure.

You never really know what to do with Kim fucking Mingyu. He stirs up all sorts of confusing feelings inside your chest at any given time, and frankly, you've had enough of it.

You allow yourself to relish in the pride that swells in your chest when he nearly drops his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray the moment you crawl on top of his lap.

Mingyu's mouth quivers with some sensible words his job description probably requires him to say, but you rob him of his ability to speak when you steal the cancer stick from his fingers. In one long breath, you smoke the cigarette down to the filter—killing it on your ashtray before leaning down to press your lips to his.

With how stunned he is, it doesn't take a lot of effort to pry Mingyu's mouth open, breathing the smoke into his mouth. Once you're satisfied, you pull away with a triumphant smirk.

"Now you're done," you say, making the motions to get off his lap. "I'm heading to bed. Don't wake me up before noon for that doctor's appointment or else I'm going to slash your ti—"

You don't even get to finish that sentence. Mingyu suddenly flips you over so that your back is pressed against the couch and he's lying on top of you—both knees planted on either side of your hips as he gazes at you with an ireful glare.

"W-What are you doing?" you whisper, but in spite of the protesting nature of your words, you can't help but feel a pang of white hot desire shoot straight through you when you feel just how big he is now that his body is pressed against yours.

"Teaching a bad girl a lesson," he whispers, grabbing your face roughly. "You can't just pull off shit like that and expect to walk away from it unscathed, princess."

Fuck. That nickname he always uses never fails to get on your nerves on any other day. But when he sounds like that and has you under him like this...

"What are you gonna do about it then?" you ask.

Mingyu chuckles darkly, as he squishes your face with his big, long fingers. You nearly shudder at the thought of what those digits could do to you if you just pushed the right buttons.

"You'll just have to fuck around and find out."

When the pressure of his strong grip leaves your cheeks, confusion paints your features. Mingyu's weight eases off your pliant body almost immediately as well, leaving you to scowl at him incredulously. He doesn't even look at you as he collects his coat from where it hangs off your couch.

But before he can even think about putting it back on, something not so different from a growl resonates deep in your chest as you sit back up—tugging on the collar of his shirt to smash your lips together.

Mingyu all but groans into the kiss, but you're not sure if you can even call it that. There's nothing but hunger fueling the both of you as your tongue slides alongside his, mapping out each other's mouths like your lives depended on it.

You vaguely hear his coat fall to the floor as Mingyu goes back to crowding you against the couch—one of his strong arms circling your waist as he grinds his hips against your middle. It's nearly embarrassing how willing you are to receive his advances.

You, the same person who told your bodyguard you refused to drive home with him, are now making out with said bodyguard at four in the morning.

But then again, who fucking cares?

"You have no idea," he whispers hoarsely against your lips and you let out a stifled moan when you feel the outline of his erection rut against your clothed pussy, "how much you drive me insane. You're such a fucking handful, you know that?"

"I'm glad to know I make your life miserable," you bite back despite the fact that, when Mingyu brings down the straps of your nightgown to expose your breasts to the cool air, you do nothing about it.

Mingyu lets out a harsh laugh. "You're probably into this, aren't you, princess? You like riling me up so much so that I'd snap and teach you a lesson?"

You want to tell him that he's being fucking full of himself if he thinks you've planned this that far back. But with how massive he feels through his trousers alone, you can't say that you don't want him inside you right this second.

It doesn't help that he's giving your chest a generous amount of attention—suckling at your nipples in a way that has you twitching beneath him with sensitivity.

"So what if I am?" you say, testing the limits of what he'll let you get away with. "You talk big about teaching me a lesson but you're being awfully careful with me. Aren't you going to shove your cock down my throat to get me to shut up?"

Mingyu chuckles with a quick shake of his head, like he isn't even taking your words seriously. You let out a sharp yelp when he bites down on one of your breasts—leaving a distinct imprint of his canines on your skin before staring into your eyes.

"I can choke you with my cock next time, princess. For now, I just want to make you come until you're crying for me."

Fuck.

Mingyu wastes no time. He immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, hauling your hips closer to the edge of the couch so that he can hook your thighs over his shoulders. When he realizes that you're not wearing any underwear underneath your flimsy satin nightgown, you swear the noise he makes is near animalistic.

"Don't get f-fucking cocky," you stammer, nerves alight everywhere his lips graze your inner thighs. "I don't usually wear underwear before going to sleep! This wasn't for you."

"It is now," Mingyu says before licking a long stripe from your leaking hole to your aching clit. He holds your thighs far apart as his lips latch onto that little bundle of nerves, alternating with delicious licks at your sensitive folds.

He practically smothers his face into your cunt as he continues his relentless assault on your clit. By the time Mingyu starts to tease his tongue along your entrance, your fingers have found their way into his unruly hair—moans falling from your lips with little concern about appearances.

Mingyu pulls away for a moment, and you nearly snap at him from that alone until he eases one of those thick fingers into your wet channel—dark eyes trained on you as he stretches you out with a hungry gaze.

You don't even feel any semblance of shame when you start to ride that single digit, wanting to feel him go deeper and spread you wider. Fortunately, your bodyguard is more attentive than you think, and it doesn't take long for him to ease another finger into your needy pussy, curling them just so once he's sure he's found that spot that'll render you an incoherent mess.

The sound he rips out of you is unholy and Mingyu growls again before his mouth finds its way back onto your cunt—getting lost in the taste of you on his tongue.

"Where's the fight you've been putting up against me all this time, princess?" he taunts just before those stupidly thick fingers graze that sensitive patch of flesh inside you again. "Are you that desperate? You've fucked yourself up so much tonight that you couldn't bring anyone back home. Your bodyguard's gonna have to do, huh?"

You know you should be affronted by how offensive his words are. Mingyu might be an expert at getting on your nerves, but with how good his fucking mouth feels as he laves at your cunt like a man starved, you can't even let yourself feel any modicum of annoyance.

"M-Mingyu," you gasp as he suckles on your clit again—steadily building your orgasm from the ground-up. "I'm gonna come, f-fuck!"

Three. Mingyu slides in three fingers at your admission, and you nearly cry with how wide he's stretching you out. This time, he switches from sucking at your clit to rapidly flicking his tongue against the sensitive pearl.

Your toes curl with oversensitivity, thighs nearly crushing his head as you frame the syllables of his name in another wanton moan. When Mingyu curls his fingers inside you one more time, the tension that's been building in your stomach snaps like a rubber band.

Once you teeter off the precarious edge of release, you feel a gush of slick surge out of your cunt and into his awaiting mouth. Mingyu laps it all up—his sinful tongue catching every drop of your tangy essence. If you didn't know better, you would think he's desperate for you as much as you are for him.

It takes a while for your mind to fully come back online after that first orgasm, chest heaving almost painfully with how Mingyu took your breath away with oral alone. When you finally have your wits about you, your bodyguard surges forward so that your faces are levelled, and you nearly groan when you see the way his mouth and chin glisten with your juices.

"So fucking delicious for me," he rasps. "Gonna let me have a taste of this pussy every time now, princess? Want my mouth on you before you sleep?

"Do whatever you want, Gyu," you mewl, tugging him closer as you position yourself horizontally on the couch. "N-Need you so bad."

He sighs, unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt as he drinks in the sight of you all fucked out and compliant because of his mouth and fingers alone. Your lips are parted, eyes glistening with tears or desire—Mingyu can't say for sure just yet.

But if he can get you this wrecked from oral, he can't fucking wait to see what you'll look like after he gets you to cream on his cock.

His shirt falls to the floor and you can't contained the awed gasp that leaves you at the sight of him. He's built like a fucking sculpture—all lean muscle and hard toned abs. It would make sense for Mingyu to be this well-built, being your bodyguard and all, but the thought of having his body pressed against yours as he fucks you into the couch is sending your mind into overdrive.

"You're so adorable," he chuckles, but you know the words are anything but a compliment. "A moment ago you were challenging everything I said and did. Now you're suddenly an agreeable little thing. Are you that cock-hungry, princess? Want something to fill that pretty pussy?"

"Yes." You don't even hesitate. "Yes, yes, yes. Want your cock in me. Want you to fill me up, Gyu. Please..."

Fortunately for you, Mingyu isn't one to tease. The moment you've given him the green light to rearrange your insides, he steps out of his tight trousers and boxers at the same time, pumping his thick cock in one hand as he nudges your thighs apart once again.

You practically salivate at the thought that you're about to take all those delicious inches inside you. Mingyu doesn't miss the starry look on your face, but doesn't take the time to gloat about it. Instead, he leans all the way forward so that your thighs are squished against your chest—easing your legs across his shoulders in a position that's not so different from when he ate you out earlier.

"Gonna fuck the attitude out of you, princess," he promises before pressing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. "You ready for me?"

You nod a little too eagerly, forcing his face into the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around his head. "Gyu, please..."

"Alright. Since you asked so nicely."

He doesn't even give any forewarning when he bottoms out inside you in one languid stroke. A choked up noise gets caught in your chest with how sudden he was, how full you feel in such a short amount of time, but Mingyu doesn't give you any time to think, or even to breathe.

Before you can even get a single word out, he's pulling his hips back—making you feel every inch of his thick cock before slamming his hips forward with a powerful thrust that drives you further into the sofa. You let out a long-winded moan, unable to do anything about it as he pounds into you with the vigor of someone who's been putting up with your shit for a better part of the year.

"Pussy's so fucking tight for me," he growls. "You're squeezing my cock so good, princess. Is this all I had to do so you'd stop driving me crazy? Eat you out a little and dick you down 'til you forget your name?"

You can't even process what he's saying right now—too lost in the sensation of his cockhead grazing your cervix with each forward stroke. He's reaching into you so deep that you might really just forget everything but the letters of Mingyu's name by the time he's done with you.

"M-Mingyu," you drawl dumbly as he peppers your neck with bites and bruises—unrelenting with his deep strokes as your cunt flutters around his length. "Fuck. L-Love your cock so much—oh!"

You let out a gasp that Mingyu quickly muffles with his own mouth as he adjusts your positions on the sofa—easing your legs off of his shoulders in exchange for spreading them wider on the cushions. How he manages to do that without his cock slipping out of you is a testament to your flexibility, and he's already cooking up what he'll do about that information for next time.

Mingyu continues kissing you all while he plants one foot on the couch and the other on the floor. When he tugs your hips even closer it's only then that you realize that the lunatic has you in a mating press.

"How long have you been thinking about me fucking you like this?" he whispers, deciding to drag it out with slow, deep thrusts that only serve to frustrate you. "You wouldn't have let me go this far if you hadn't thought about it at least once, princess."

I've wanted to fuck you since the old man introduced us, is the correct answer but you've still got some shred of dignity. If Mingyu wants the truth, he's going to have to work for it.

"Fuck me again after this, and I might give you an answer," you rasp, meeting his lazy thrusts with some of your own to get the point that you want him to ram into you across.

"There she is," Mingyu laughs. "My nasty, sharp-tongued princess. Thought I lost you for a sec."

"You will if you don't fuck me until I black out."

"Oh? All you had to do was ask, you know."

Then and there, Mingyu makes good of that interesting position he'd unknowingly lured you into—plunging that fat cock even deeper into your pussy if that's even possible. It felt heavenly, taking all of him while your legs dangled off his shoulders, but there's just something about having your legs spread impossibly wide as he drills into you with the full intention of making you come until you're crying that does it for you.

As each second passes, Mingyu's thrusts become more erratic—hips snapping with hard, calculated strokes so fucking good that tears are starting to glisten along the lines of your lashes like he promised.

You mewl his name like a string of prayers as the sound of your cunt squelching with every thrust rings in your ears. It's insane how close he's driven you to the edge in the span of thirty minutes, and you're starting to grow fearful of how addicting it feels to have him inside you like this.

At this point, you'd rather get off on Mingyu's cock than get high from some shady sativa joint. Something tells you he'd rather have that, too.

"Where do you want me, princess?" he whispers into your ear, reaching between your legs to give you just the right pressure you've been missing on your clit. You have to bite back a sob when he presses his thumb against it.

"Inside," you whimper as he continues plunging his engorged length into you. "Fill me with your cum, please, Gyu. I want it—want it so bad."

Mingyu hisses when you clench around his cock, large hands undoubtedly about to leave bruises on your thighs come morning. When you hear that deep, sexy laugh in your ear, you know it's all over for you.

"Come on my cock first, princess. Then I'll give you what you want."

He punctuates the words by drawing quick, tight circles on your clit all while keeping up the cadence of his thrusts. With the steady stream of stimulation he's so willing to give, it's a no-brainer for another orgasm to blindside you yet again.

You cry out with bliss as you screw your eyes shut—tears running down your cheeks in cascades as you fall apart on Mingyu's cock. He fucks into you despite the overstimulation, his own high not far behind because of the expression you're showing him.

"That's it," he rasps, leaning down to kiss the tears away. "Fucking cry for me, princess."

You're not sure if you're just too blissed out to comprehend it properly, but you're pretty sure that Mingyu just triggered another orgasm from you when you feel him twitch inside—your tight channel being covered in his white hot emission.

It doesn't help that your insatiable lover continues to fuck his cum deeper into your abused cunt, taking full advantage of this position while he can.

"M-Mingyu," you beg, fingers raking across his back as he punches the breath out of your lungs. "Too much. T-Too much."

You thought he wouldn't heed your words, but surprisingly, Mingyu halts every movement to gaze at you with a hint of concern lining his gaze. Wordlessly, he eases himself out of your sore cunt, wiping the tears off your eyes before pressing a kiss on your lips.

"Sorry," he murmurs before gently fixing the straps of your nightgown. He even tugs the hem down despite the fact that his cum is currently leaking out of you. "You want me to tuck you in?"

You nod, lacing your fingers around his neck, the overstimulated mess you are. Mingyu breathes out a quiet laugh before carrying you into his arms again.

"Alright, princess. Let's get you to bed."

You don't have the heart nor the energy to protest. Besides, it's his job to take care of you, after all.

⟢ end notes: reminder to not take any of the medical indications abt drugs that i included in this fic seriously. i made all of those up. oh and this should go w/o saying but don't fuck anyone while under the influence of anything AT ALL !!!

that aside, happy birthday to everyone's favorite puppy boy mingyu! i ended up loving him a lot more as i stanned svt, and i hope everyone else gives him the same love as well! god knows he has lots to give to both his members and his fans ueueue

++ if you spotted a few errors here and there, please don't tell me or i'll die of embarrassment ^_^ this wasn't proofread bcs i wanted to drop this exactly on his bday (i am 1 hour and 34 mins late!) HEHEHE i was sposed to write an ending scene in the morning where gyu wakes up and sees her wearing his shirt while making breakfast but that'll make this too long :| i'll just leave that to ur imagination!

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu #svt smut #svt fanfic #lovelyhan #🎲 ask games #full length fic 📚#💭 request

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theirishwolfhound · 7 months ago

Text

I do love the idea of an unhinged reader. Not like brutally unhinged but... like the kind that is harmlessly annoying and is just a brat to Task Force 141.

Like the mother fuckers nickname is Menace and they're somehow still alive after everything so they make it everyone's problem.

They're great at what they do, amazing even— but no team wants menaces like Menace, not even the heavens nor the hells want the damn person.

This is the same Menace who wears a devilish half-mask, but only above their mouth so people can see their shit-eating grin (think similar to the ghoul mask above) as they leave small firecrackers under the lids of toilet seats, or so people notice the way their lips curl up in mock disgust when someone is talking.

Menace who only goes through with the SAS training to one up another soldier they despised, enough to have sicked a pack of squirrels on that they personally hand fed a few days after— they even bonded enough with the little fuckers that when they were finally transferred out to be someone else's problem, the squirrels would steal the remaining soldiers foods.

Laswell, whose grand idea of knocking the boys down a peg since she's tired of their shenanigans includes getting this Menace of a person to join 141 with faint threats of blackmail— to which Coporal Menace respects, leading Kate to being the only one who is not subjected to the dumpster fire that is about to happen, but is only encouraged by her wife.

Price, who in his right mind, nearly rejects the idea of this misfit joining because of their turnover rate but gives in when Laswell tells him it would be worth it— that her wife likes them and they're an excellent solider after all.

Immediately upon arrival, Menace lives up to their name— pissing on the side of the building as if to mark their new territory before deciding it would be a good idea to rile up the behemoth of a man by asking Price: "Didn't anyone tell the poor bastard that Halloween was four fuckin' months ago? Look at 'em he looks emo."

It wasn't until then that the poor Captain realized how much of an untamed brat his new corporal was— only to be further set in after the first two weeks on base.

Sure Menace got along with Soap, but they were far too alike for Menace's likings and Gaz, sweet sweet Gaz, gave them a few too man odd glances and playfully snide remarks for their liking— meanwhile Ghost had made them scrub the bathroom from top to bottom with a small sponge, and well they could already see the forming regret in Price's eyes.

So Menace did what they did best.

It started out simple: silently attaching balloons on strings to the back of their clothes without them noticing, flipping all of the furniture upside down during the middle of the night, purposefully mocking every single move of one of the operators for a full day, sugar in the salt shaker or salt in the sugar dish, you name it they did it.

Glitterbomb the captain? Oh yeah, and there's still glitter in his mustache.

Tied the two sergeants' doors together so that neither could open it? Done and done, they were locked in their rooms for a good hour until someone cut the rope.

Move the lieutenant’s furniture two inches to the right so that he would constantly stub his toe? Yeah, you can practically see him fuming after every trip to his office.

And what irked the lads the most? Menace kept getting away without being caught— managing to even out sneak Ghost, which the only reason for it is: Menace knowing they don't know what they look like without that mask. So obviously they take it off and blend in with the many other people on base.

They made a fool of their sergeants, their lieutenant, and their captain and it was time to get back at the cunning prankster— but Menace grew suspicious. Usually they would have been booted out by a normal team by then, but what Menace came to realize a bit too late was that Task Force 141 was not normal.

And reality came to a head when Menace was called to Price's office to collect something— only for that something to be a bucket of ice cold water falling onto their head and for the captain to tell their now soaking wet and cold Coporal: "Game's on, brat."

PT 1 | PT 2

#cod mw2 #gaz cod #ghost cod #john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mctavish #soap cod #price cod #call of duty x reader #cod x male reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #honestly can turn this into smut #menace reader #task force 141 #tf141 are totally brat tamers while also being brats #tf 141 x reader #drabble

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bagerfluff · 5 months ago

Text

Domestic Sweetness

Casper x Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - Bathing Together

“Are you sure about this?”

Casper asked you. You turned your body around and took your hand out of the water. “Yes, though I feel like that was more a question for you”, you said. Making Casper turn his head away.

Casper was sitting on the toilet as you filled the bath tube with water. Earlier today Casper was thinking about something, something you had said about five months ago.

You said something about bathing with Casper, and even back then it peaked Casper’s interest. The thought of doing something so intimate, kinda scared Casper’s.

Casper’s never been intimate with anyone.

So the idea of being intimate with you, the first person Casper’s ever loved. It both scared Casper and excited him. So when you got home Casper asked, with a red face and stutter, if you would like to bathe with him.

So that’s how the both of you got here, in boxers, with a bathtub full of hot water. The lights were turned off, but a small night light shined from the counter. It made everything feel more intimate.

“Yes I’m sure about this”, Casper said. You smiled and stood up, “then you first”, you said. Casper looked at the bath, the curtain was pulled to the side with the faucet.

It was a simple curtain, one with leaves and flowers on it. It was all bunched up now though so it was a mix of white and black. Casper stood up and walked the short distance to the bath.

You had put in what you called a ‘bath bomb’ though it didn’t blow anything up. It just added light blue bubbles to the bath and made it smell nice.

A mix of mint, vanilla, and lavender. It calmed Casper’s nerves. Casper lifted a foot and put it into the bath, Casper shivered in the hot water.

Not too hot but just hot enough, it quickly made goosebumps appear on Casper’s skin. Casper placed his other leg in, soon both feet were hidden by the bubbles.

Casper then sat down in the bath, his whole body was already feeling hotter. Casper could feel his boxers getting wet and sticking to his skin, it felt weird but Casper ignored it.

“Alright, my turn”, you said before getting in. Casper kept his head straight, staring at the faucet as you got in. Casper soon felt your legs next to his, his legs were semi on top of yours.

Casper felt your arms wrap around his waist and pull him closer. Casper felt your chest hit his back, then your head rested on his shoulder.

Casper couldn’t think. Casper shifted at the feeling of his hair against his back. Casper let his arms relax into the water, his arms on top of his legs. Half in the water half out.

Though half of his body was out of the water, all of Casper’s body was warm. Maybe it was because of the steam, maybe it was because of what you and Casper were doing.

There was too much, too many things.

The smell of the bath bomb over took his nose, making Casper feel tired and relaxed. The feeling of the hot bath water, Casper normally takes cold showers, rarely baths and it’s even rarer that they're hot.

So the feeling of the water all around his legs and even on his stomach. The heat of the water warmed up Casper’s low body temperature, it was weird yet nice.

Like a fluffy blanket and hot chocolate in winter. Casper felt himself relax, he leaned back into your chest. Casper felt his muscles relax, normally so stiff and achy, now relaxed and almost numb.

Casper felt the ends of his hair dip into the water. Casper watched as one of your hands let go of his waist. You cupped some water in your hand, it was full of bubbles.

You tipped it over Casper’s chest, causing water to stream down Casper’s chest and for bubbles to collect in the middle. Casper shivered at the feeling.

You kept doing it, slowly like you were washing Casper. Casper didn’t say out could, but he didn’t say you couldn’t. Casper had asked if you two could bathe together, not bathe each other.

But the more Casper thought about it. Having someone else bathe you after a long day. Letting yourself relax, trusting them enough to not hurt you when you're so vulnerable.

It made Casper giddy, which is something never thought he would think. “You like it”, you asked. Voice ghosting Casper’s ear, making him shiver again. “Yeah”, Casper said breathlessly.

The feeling of the water, the bubbles, you. Casper liked it all. Casper leaned up fully, staring at a bottle of shampoo that was on a shelf. You followed Casper’s gaze and smiled, reaching for the bottle.

You squirted some into your hands and held Casper’s hair with the other. “Can I?” You asked, and Casper nodded. You smiled and started to rub the shampoo into Casper’s hair.

Casper closed his eyes, it felt nice.

Casper liked his long hair, but it was sometimes a hassle to take care of it. Casper felt your fingers run through his hair so carefully, like you were handling gold.

Then your hand got to Casper’s head, you scratched Casper scalp, working in the shampoo. Casper leaned his head back, this was all so weird.

Casper was new to this dating thing. He’s never been this vulnerable with someone before, Casper kinda liked it. It was nice to relax, take a break and let someone else take care of you.

Casper never had a break, never had someone to take care of him, never, no one. Yet here you were, taking care of Casper like he was gold.

Casper didn’t know if he liked or hated the feeling this was causing in his chest. Casper was caught off guard by you pushing his head forward. “Close your eyes”, you said and Casper followed.

You poured water over Casper's head, rinsing out the shampoo from his hair. You did this with a cup multiple times when all of the shampoo was out.

You repeated this, running conditioner through Casper hair, scratching his scalp, rinsing it out. Once that was done Casper leaned back down, head right in the middle of your chest.

Casper felt nice. He felt tired and ready to go to bed, but he felt nice. “You like this?” You asked again and this time Casper tilted his head up to look at you.

You had a smile on your face that Casper loved. You looked so content. Casper thought he wouldn’t like this, he thought it would feel too weird and it did.

But it was nice too. Casper smiled, ‘I-I did”, Casper said. “Though it is a little weird feeling”, Casper said. He still wasn’t used to domestic stuff like this, though he was getting there.

You were a big help too. Always there to help Casper though his feelings, helping him determine if he liked it or not. “Do you want to do this again?”

You asked and Casper thought about it. “Yes, but only with you”, Casper said. You smiled and leaned down to kiss Casper. Your lips danced with Casper’s, heads tilting until the angle was perfect.

You pulled away, “me too. I’m the only one you can do this with”, you said. Casper rolled his eyes, “I can do whatever I want, but yes”, Casper leaned up to peck you.

“Only with you”, Casper said, and that explained Casper feelings about domestic actions with three words. It could also be explained with one word.

You.

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virescent-v · 10 months ago

Note

Reader gets pregnant but baby’s father isn’t the picture and Emily’s helping and supporting reader through out the pregnancy?

Oh Baby

Summary: A glimpse of your pregnancy, with the help of Emily.

A/n: Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: none, this is all fluff! dont come for me about the name i couldnt think of anything else hehehe

Word count: 2.7K

You called her the second you realized your period was four weeks late. To be fair, you’ve never really had normal periods, so you hadn’t noticed at first.

She showed up at your door, bag from CVS in hand. She didn’t say anything, just took your hand and led you to the bathroom, thrusting the pregnancy test (or five) in your hands before closing the door.

You opened all of the boxes, followed the directions, and opened the door.

She was patiently waiting on the other side, arms across her chest, chewing on her lower lip.

“We’ll deal with whatever it says, however you want.”

You could feel your eyes starting to tear up, your lower lip wobbling with the influx of emotion.

Emily just held her arms out and you made your way to her, letting her gather you up in a forceful hug, as if she knew she was the only thing keeping you together right now. She rubbed soothing circles on your back, letting you take the time you needed.

As you pulled away from her, she pushed your hair from your face. “You ready?”

You managed a meek, “As I’ll ever be,” before leading her by the hand into the bathroom. You slid one of the tests over to her, grabbing a different one in your free hand. “Together?”

Emily smiled a little at you, “Together.”

You each flipped over the tests.

***

She took off work for the first appointment, told her team to not call her under any circumstances until the appointment was over. She made sure to pick you up, drive you, and she even filled out the paperwork for you because your hands were too sweaty to hold the pen.

When the nurse called you back, you made sure to grab Emily’s hand, dragging her along with you. She sat on the stool right next to the exam table, holding your hand the entire time.

As the doctor put the ultrasound jelly on your stomach, you felt Emily lean a little closer to you, trying to see the monitor better even though she had no idea what she was looking at.

A small little sac with an even smaller blob in the middle of it.

A baby.

You heard Emily take in a little breath, her hand squeezing yours a little tighter. You made eye contact with her, smiling at the barely hidden joy on her face. Emily’s always been really great with kids and you knew that she was going to be amazing with your little one.

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” The doctor asked.

You glanced quickly at Emily, a resounding ‘yes’ leaving your lips. A flick of the machine, a quick readjusting of the machine, and soon enough there was a rapid, static-like pulse emanating from the speakers.

“Everything with the baby looks great,” the doctor said. “Do you want some printouts of the ultrasound?”

“Absolutely,” you said.

As you sat in the car on the way back to your apartment, you were looking at the ultrasound, each of the six frames looking like the same blob to you. With a quick decision, you tore it in half, leaving three frames on each side.

When Emily parked, you handed her one half. “For you.”

You watched as she reverently held the pictures, her finger rubbing gently across the middle frame. “I can’t wait to meet them,” she whispered.

You smiled. You couldn’t wait for her to meet them either.

***

At this point, you were well acquainted with the inside of your toilet bowl. The morning sickness had hit you swift and hard and out of nowhere.

You were hardly able to keep food down, the smells of most things sending you running for the toilet. Your cravings hit you just as swift, but changed quicker than you could accommodate them.

Thankfully, your boss let you work from home most of the week. You couldn’t imagine having to deal with this while in the office.

Emily made sure to text you consistently every day, as much as her work day would allow for it. Currently, she was out of state, dealing with some psycho in Florida (go figure).

Emily: How’s today? Still puking your guts up?

You: Tell your soon to be bestie to calm down! Their mother actually needs to work to be able to afford them and she can’t when she’s constantly staring at the inside of her toilet.

Emily: Put your phone up to your belly.

Emily: Hi, little one! Auntie Em here. RELAX. Your mom is throwing a fit and needs to work!

You: You’re insane.

You: Thank you.

Emily: 🙂Did it work?

You: Ugh, yes, sort of. I’m drinking some water and ginger ale and munching on some crackers.

Emily: I should be back tonight. Dinner?

You: Yes, I miss you! We can decide when you get here?

Emily: See you two soon!

***

Second trimester brought nothing but constant weird cravings. Your pantry and fridge were overflowing with foods you’d probably never eat because it sounded good one second, but you ended up being disgusted by it the next.

It was around midnight on a random Wednesday when you woke up starving and craving mint chocolate chip icecream and pickles. You padded your way down to your kitchen, tying the tie of your robe around you, before frowning at the lack of both in your refrigerator.

Chewing on your thumb nail, blankly staring at the light emanating from within your fridge, you heard your phone buzz on the counter behind you. Sighing, closing the door dejectedly, you snatched your phone up, smiling at the text from Emily.

Emily: I just got back from the case in Wisconsin. You up?

You: I am. Cravings hit hard for choco chip mint icecream and pickles and I have neither. I might go to the store. :(

Emily: Absolutely not. I’ll grab it and be right over. Your place is closer than mine and I’m beat.

You shook your head, not arguing with her. Emily has been a lifesaver during your pregnancy, helping you as much as she can. She’s taken you to most of your appointments, helped you shop for (and build) some nursery furniture, and she’s bought the baby more clothes and toys than you have.

The opening of your front door jolted you from your thoughts.

“I come bearing gifts!” Emily said, walking into the low lit kitchen with a few bags.

You stared incredulously, “Em! I wanted icecream and pickles! What is all of this?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I was hungry, too. And everything just looked so good. So I bought it,” she said, as she slid your icecream and pickles across the counter before emptying the bags.

You rolled your eyes. You were going to have so much food go bad on you. Opening both the chocolate mint icecream and pickles, you smiled, a happy little dance making your body wiggle.

Emily grabbed her own icecream, coming back to the island with two bowls and spoons. However, she watched in horror as you took one of the dill pickles and dipped it into the icecream and scooped some of it before shoving both in your mouth.

You hummed happily, the saltiness of the pickle and the sweetness of the icecream hitting your craving exactly how you imagined it would.

Glancing up, you almost choked and laughed at the look on Emily’s face. “Don’t say anything. Baby is wreaking havoc on my taste buds. Talk to them about it when they’re older. It’s their fault.”

Emily furiously blinked a few times before taking a deep breath and ignoring the teasing remark she had.

As she opened her chocolate icecream, you shrieked, covering your full mouth before rushing around the counter towards Emily.

“What?! What’s wrong?” She said, throwing her spoon down, thinking something was wrong.

You continued chewing, shaking your head, grabbing her hand and placing it on your stomach.

Emily’s eyes caught yours as she felt the baby move and kick. “Is that…?”

“Mhm,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes.

Emily knelt down to the ground, her face inches from your stomach. She was gazing at it with awe, rubbing small circles over the spot the baby had just kicked. “Hi, baby. I can’t wait to meet you,” she whispered.

At this moment, you’ve never been happier.

***

The third trimester flew by. The nursery was done, with the help of Emily and her coworkers. How she managed to get Derek, Rossi, and Hotch to paint the nursery and build the rest of the furniture in one day you will never know, but you were incredibly thankful. It was one less thing you had to worry about.

You had a hospital bag packed and ready in your car because the baby could come at any moment.

Sniffling, you were trying to hide your disappointment as you talked to Emily on the phone. “It’s okay, Em. Work is important. Go. We’ll be here when you get back. They just might be outside of me when you do,” you wetly chuckled. You were hoping she could be there when the baby was born, but you understood her job sporadically called her away.

There was a long pause. “You and this baby are more important than any job I’ll ever have. Do you understand that?”

You took a deep breath in, catching the undertone of what she was saying.

You and Emily had been toeing around each other for the past few weeks. Every moment felt charged and on the precipice of something more. Neither one of you ever brought it up, just allowed it to happen. You knew you were close to finally admitting to each other how you felt, but something was holding both of you back.

“I know,” you whispered.

Another long, tense silence.

A deep sigh. “Try to keep them in there until I get back, okay?”

“You got it, boss,” you said, still trying to hold back all of the emotions bubbling up inside you. “Stay safe and come home to us.”

You heard Emily suck in a breath. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

There was a click from her hanging up, and you rubbed your belly absentmindedly. Home. Emily was home.

***

Your relationship with Emily came to head one scary night when you thought you were going into early labor. The contractions felt real – real for someone who has never felt real contractions before.

Emily came over, rushed you to the hospital, and stuck with you the whole night just for the doctor to tell you it was false labor and to take it easy over the next few weeks until the baby finally made their appearance.

She took you back home, well after midnight, both of you exhausted from the whole ordeal. You both settled into your bed, still a little hyped up from the adrenaline of a possible delivery.

“I was a little scared, but also excited to meet them,” Emily whispered in the dark of your room.

“Me, too. It’s still too early for them. They need to cook a little longer,” you giggled.

You felt the bed shake slightly from Emily’s muffled laughter. “Don’t talk about my bestie like that! They aren’t a chicken that needs more time in the oven!”

You laughed loudly. “I know they’re not a chicken, Em! They’re our kid, so I get it that they’re impatient, but they need to walk until it’s safe to come out!”

It took you a few seconds to realize what you said. There was a tense silence from the other side of the bed. “Our kid?”

You licked your lips, your hands fiddling on your stomach. Clearing your throat a bit, you sighed. “Yes, okay, our kid, Emily. You’ve been here since the beginning. And we both know our relationship has changed, is changing.” You turned your head, trying to seek her eyes out in the dark. “I’m tired of not admitting how I know we both feel.”

You turned over, your enlarged stomach making it a bit of a harder task than normal. “You were here when I took the test, you take me to most of my appointments, you’ve built the nursery. Hell, Em, I’ve caught you talking to them when you think I’m asleep about all of the things you’re going to teach them, how you’re going to protect them, and threaten any future boyfriends or girlfriends!”

You scooched closer to her, your hand coming up to play with her hair. You were pretty sure her eyes were shining with tears, but with how dark it was in the room, you couldn’t be sure. “I love you, Emily Prentiss. Wanna raise a baby with me?”

Emily sniffled and laughed loudly, her voice gravelly from all of the different emotions the night was causing her. She brought her face closer to yours, rubbing her nose gently across yours. Another quiet sniffle. Her lips briefly met yours. “I love you, too. Let's raise a baby.”

***

Frantically, you tried to put on fresh clothes. The maternity jeans you were wearing having been soaked because your water finally broke.

Shoving your shoes into some sandals, not caring if it looked silly with socks, you shakily pressed familiar numbers on your phone, waiting for her to pick up.

On the second ring, a rushed, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Em,” you panted, rushing down the steps. “It’s time.”

“What?” There was a second pause. “OH. Okay, okay. Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

“Okay, please hurry. These contractions are no joke,” you tried to laugh as another one took over. Through gritted teeth you mumbled, “Use the sirens.”

Emily was at your place in less than ten minutes, lights flashing. You were at the nearby hospital in less than twenty, the contractions coming every couple of minutes.

Emily helped walk you inside and get you checked in. In a flurry of minutes, you were undressed, in a hospital gown, and in your own room.

As you were being assessed, Emily had stepped out of the room to make all of the calls to let your family and her team know what was happening.

“Alright,” the doctor said. “Baby should be making their way into the world shortly. For now, we’re going to monitor both you and baby and get everything prepped.”

Another, stronger wave of contractions hit as Emily came back into the room. She immediately rushed over, grabbing your hand and letting you squeeze the shit out of it.

Over the next few hours, Emily stayed by your side, only leaving to get cold washcloths to wipe the sweat from your face, or to update everyone.

With the contractions coming closer and closer apart, the doctor came in, gowned up. “Alright, mom. It’s time! Let’s meet this baby!”

Emily got closer to you, continuing to hold your hand, her other brushing your hair out of your face. “You’ve got this, I’m right here.”

You took a deep breath, gritted your teeth, and started pushing.

***

What felt like hours later, many pushes, and a few inventive curses, an abrupt cry filled the delivery room.

“Congrats, moms! It’s a girl!”

You and Emily caught each other's eyes, not daring to correct the doctor. As the baby was checked, Emily wiped the sweat from your face, admiration shining in her eyes. “You did it. She’s here. I’m so proud of you.”

A nurse brought over the clean little blanketed baby, smiling as she handed her to you. “What’s her name?”

As you gazed down at the round, cute face of your newborn, you took a deep breath as her name came to you. You rubbed your finger across her chubby little cheek, getting a little misty eyed.

You looked up at Emily, watching as her eyes held so much love for your daughter, for you. Your little family.

“Charlotte Emilia. We’re hyphenating her last name.”

Emily’s eyes widened a little. She swallowed a little thickly before whispering, “You sure?”

You took her hand in yours, smiling at her. “I can’t imagine naming her after anyone else. She’s just as much yours as she is mine, Em.”

You brought your hand up, wiping an errant tear from Emily’s cheek. Rubbing the skin there, you smiled brightly. You trailed your hand behind her neck, dragging her face towards you. “I love my family, Em,” you said, before kissing her. “Wanna hold your daughter?”

Emily’s smile was the brightest thing you’ve ever seen.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #virescent v fanfic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #no use of y/n #if there are any pregnancy inaccuracies dont blame me i dont have kids and dont want them lol #i hope you like it!!#im also working on my other reqs but pls be patient im slow lol

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imaginespazzi · 7 months ago

Text

Part 5: One Perfect Day

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

Let me photograph you in this light (in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were)

(In which a procrastinating writer procrastinates giving her ship happiness)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Some Fluff

Words: 7.5K

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. As many of you have reminded me it is indeed Friday and so here we are, nobody needs to yell at me! I know I'm years too late with this but I hope y'all like it anyways, even though this is very much mainly hurt with very little comfort. But for things to get better, they have to get worse and remember, it's all for the plot! There's plenty of creative liberty taken this chapter with how hotels and post-championship celebrations work and other logistics but I wrote it how I needed to so just go with it. Did I edit? Yes. Are there typos and errors anyway? Probably. As always, tell me what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful weekend lovelies!!

March 2019

The final buzzer echoes through the Williams Arena, and the disappointment of the last couple of years is finally drowned out as the Hopkins Royals win the state championship. Surrounded by the cheers of her teammates, Paige doesn’t know if she’d call this the happiest moment of her life, the stomach flu symptoms haven’t quite faded yet, but she knows it’s definitely on her mount rushmore of times when life was great.

For a second, as she’d been crouched over the toilet with Azzi’s hands soothingly rubbing her back, feeling her soul leave with the remnants of last night's dinner, Paige had almost lost hope. But she’d never been taught to give up without a fight. And so it hadn��t mattered that she definitely looked a little green or that standing up was taking twice the energy it normally did, Paige was going to play today. It hadn’t been a flashy scoring night but she’d done everything else her team needed. And as that lead had built and built and built, Paige knew, the moment was still hers.

“Paigeyyyyy,” Drew is the first one to find her after her and her teammates break apart, launching his tiny body into her legs, “you won!”

Paige laughs, lifting her brother into her arms and spinning him around, “I told you I was gonna didn’t I?”

One by one, her whole family, the epitome of a modern family, pull her into hugs and then they gather into one large group hug, with Paige at the centre of it all. Her siblings look at her with pure admiration while her parent’s eyes are filled with pride. And it fulfils that part of Paige that has always lived a little more for her family than for herself.

As her family moves away slowly, Paige finds herself face to face with Azzi’s shining smile and her heart skips a beat. And she doesn’t really know when it started or even how really, but it gets a little more difficult every time she sees Azzi, for Paige to convince herself that that fluttering in her chest is nothing.

“You look a little pale white girl,” Azzi teases, taking a couple of steps towards the blonde, “glad you didn’t vomit all over the floor.”

“Nah no bullshit flu is stopping Paige Bueckers. The flu is scared of me,” Paige juts out her chest with a smirk, earning her a patented eye roll from the younger girl.

“Oh yeah, you’re real scary,” Azzi indulges before pulling Paige into a bone-crushing hug, “I’m proud of you P.”

Paige smiles into the crook of Azzi’s neck, basking in the glow of the compliment. It’s these little moments they have in between their constant banter, where they let themselves be each other’s biggest cheerleaders, that makes them Paige and Azzi. They pull away, still grinning. and Paige’s eyes roam over the Team Paige jersey framing Azzi’s body. It makes her feel some type of way to see the younger girl wearing her name across her chest, but it’s not a feeling Paige is quite ready to accept. Perhaps it’s been written in their destiny that someday things will change, that eventually they’ll both have to confront the something more that’s simmering underneath it all, but for now, Paige just wants to protect what they already have.

“That’s a pretty jersey,” she says with a wink, fingers rushing over the soft material.

“I was forced at gunpoint to wear it,” Azzi sighs dramatically, “I was actually cheering for Stillwater. Their pg’s kinda cute.”

Paige bristles at the comment, the queasiness from this morning returning with vengeance, “she’s mid as hell on and off the court.”

“Don’t be petty Paige. You think she’d let me wear her jersey instead?”

“You know what,” Paige fights a losing battle with the quick surge of anger that’s taking birth in her stomach, “how about you take off my winner’s jersey and go to the loser’s locker room and beg for her jersey instead.”

She knows Azzi’s joking, knows the point guard on the other team isn’t even really Azzi’s type, knows that even if Azzi’s being serious, Paige doesn’t have a right to feel this way. But that green eyed monster is clawing at her heart, squeezing it and making it hard to breathe.

“Oh- hey hey hey,” Azzi’s quick to grab at her when Paige tries to storm off, “chill dude. You know I’m just kidding.”

“Well it wasn’t funny,” Paige pouts, aware that she’s being unnecessarily childish.

Azzi opens her mouth, about to make some smartass quip but there must be something about how genuinely frustrated Paige looks that softens her expression, “I came to watch you P. I have no idea what that other girl was doing. I was cheering for you the whole time.”

“You’re so sappy,” Paige snorts, throwing a handful of confetti at Azzi, but inside, the ice cold jealousy melts into something warm and lovely, spreading through her heart into her veins.

“Can’t even say nice shit without you being a dick about it,” Azzi rolls her eyes, as she links her arms through Paige’s, “now come on, let’s go celebrate you.”

***

It’s almost 2 a.m. when Paige’s teammates finally begin to filter out of her house, leaving with droopy eyes and tired smiles. She and Azzi stand in the doorway, waving goodbye to every last one of them and it feels a little domestic, like a couple after a dinner party. Paige shakes that thought away the minute it begins to form, forcing herself to ignore the burst of wouldn’t that be lovely that blooms in her chest.

“What if I just fell asleep here?” Paige sags against the doorframe.

“You’d probably fall flat on your face and I’d get an epic video of it.”

“You’re so fucking mean to me.”

“Oh yeah right because you’re so nice to me.”

“Am to,” Paige retorts, before she makes grabby hands towards Azzi, “carry me?”

Azzi swats her hands away, “Absolutely not lazy, it’s one flight of stairs.”

“That’s like 20 steps,” Paige whines. To be honest, she’s not that tired. Out of the two of them, she’s probably closer to being a night owl. But Paige is nothing if not a little bit of nuisance, especially when it comes to Azzi.

“Are you an athlete or not,” Azzi chides, rolling her eyes.

“Bro I just won a championship AND I had the flu. And you won’t even carry me? What kind of best friend are you?”

“Paige.”

“Azziiiiii.”

“Paige I’m tired.”

“Pleeeeeaseeee.”

The younger girl sighs, a sign of her caving in, before turning around so her back is facing Paige's front, “fine, get on you big baby.”

“YES-”

“Dude shut up, you’re gonna wake everybody up,” Azzi groans, always the responsible one.

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige whispers as she jumps onto Azzi’s back, the force of it causing the brunette to take a couple steps forward, “fucking hell Azzi don’t drop me.”

Azzi lets out an indignant squawk, as she regains her balance, “with that attitude, I should drop you.”

“If you’re too weak to carry me, just say that,” Paige teases, wrapping her legs firmly around Azzi’s torso. She buries her shit-eating grin in her best friend’s neck, as she loops her arms around Azzi’s shoulders.

“It is not my fault you’ve put on like a hundred pounds since I last saw you.”

Azzi squeals when Paige pinches at her ribcage and the blonde immediately slaps a hand on her best friend’s mouth, “what happened to being quiet? Now, onwards horsey- OW! Did you just fucking bite my hand!?”

“What happened to being quiet?” Azzi mocks, adjusting Paige’s weight on her back as she begins to walk towards the staircase, grumbling something under her breath about ‘ungrateful best friends’ but Paige knows she doesn’t mean a word of it. She snuggles further into Azzi’s neck, letting herself breathe in the scent of the younger girl.

When Azzi had first left Minnesota, after they’d spent every second since the plane ride back from Argentina, Paige had thought that that hollowness in her chest was temporary, that it would fade once she got back into daily life. It didn’t. And the thing is the word miss had existed in Paige’s dictionary before too but she doesn’t think she really understood what it meant til she started to miss Azzi.

As soon as they reach Paige’s bedroom, Azzi’s already swatting Paige off her back. The blonde falls back onto the pillows on her bed with a content sigh, watching with a cheeky grin as Azzi pretends to stretch out the muscles on her back and her arms.

“I think that might have broke my fucking back,” the younger girl groan, face scrunching up in mock exhaustion, “and I have to sit on a plane again tomorrow.”

That wipes the smile straight off Paige's face. It’s so easy to get lost in the moment with Azzi, so easy to forget that they spend less time together than they do apart. They haven’t bothered with the actual lights but even in the dim glow of the moon through Paige’s windows, Azzi sees her best friend’s change in expression clearly, her own face becoming melancholic. Sighing, she climbs onto the bed herself and lies down next to Paige, intertwining her hands with the older girl’s.

“You could stay a little longer,” Paige says after a moment, eyes resolutely focused on the ceiling.

Azzi let out a wistful sigh, “I wish. But you know I can’t.”

“You can, you just won’t, little miss goody-two-shoes,” the light-hearted teasing eases some of the mood as they both let out soft giggles. They dissolve into a comfortable silence before, “I can’t wait til we’re playing for UConn together.”

Paige misses the way Azzi stiffens a little next to her, too enthralled with imagining a future where she and her best friend could conquer the world together. She knows Azzi, with all her indecisive tendencies, hasn’t quite come around to being anywhere near ready to pick a college team yet but Paige still has time to convince her and Paige Bueckers is nothing if not persuasive.

“So it’s definitely UConn then?”

“Yeah. I mean it’s UConn dude. The UConn. They’re the best. All these other programs are nice but when UConn calls, you don’t say no to that shit,” and Paige means that with all her heart. As the number one recruit in her class, there had been no shortage of offers and of course Paige had entertained them for a little while. But the minute Geno Auriemma had given his offer, everything else had become obsolete. She hadn’t committed yet, still maintaining a façade of being in the decision stage, but all of that was just a front. Paige knows she’s meant to be a UConn husky, there’s no way around it.

“I think you’ll make a pretty damn good Husky,” Azzi says with a soft smile, as she absentmindedly plays with Paige’s fingers.

“We’ll make damn good Huskies,” Paige affirms.

“I don’t know P, California’s pretty tempting,” it’s said teasingly but a hint of seriousness slips through the cracks anyway.

Paige scoffs, “cause it’s hot? Bruh that much heat would be boring. Connecticut gets all four seasons. We’d get the heat and the snow.”

“I get all of that in Virginia already,” Azzi points out with a huff, “maybe I want something different.”

“You do get something different. You get to play with me. That’s different.”

“Yeah but-”

“Dude why are you fighting me on this? Do you not want to be on the same team as me or something?” Paige asks agitatedly, suddenly feeling frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken.

“Okay breathe,” Azzi gives her a stern side-eye, “I was just saying California’s nice. Of course I want to be on your team. Did the shirt not make that obvious?”

Involuntarily, Paige has to smile at the memory of Azzi’s jersey, the team Paige that had been loudly imprinted across her chest, “right, sorry got a little carried away. I just always want you on my team, you know?”

“I’m always on Team Paige. I always have been. I always will be,” Azzi says firmly, as if it’s the most obvious truth in the world.

When Paige turns her head to look at her best friend, the younger girl is already looking back at her and the sincerity in Azzi’s eyes makes Paige’s heart stutter. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige swears she can see every little detail in the dim light. And the thing is Paige has always known Azzi’s a pretty girl, she’s not blind. But it’s different tonight. Tonight Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that Paige wants to memorise until it’s imprinted in the back of her eyelids, the kind of beautiful that she wants to lock away in a treasure chest and preserve only for her own eyes to ever see again. The kind of beautiful that Paige knows she isn’t allowed to think of Azzi as. But still, right now, Azzi’s the kind of beautiful that makes Paige want to try and see if maybe, just maybe, there’s the possibility for something more.

That night, when she finally falls asleep to the sound of her best friend’s quiet breathing, Paige dreams of UConn and championships and at the end of it all, kissing Azzi under the confetti.

***

April 2024

There’s 14 seconds left in the National Championship game and UConn is ahead by eight points. Adrenaline courses through Paige’s veins as that one elusive dream of hers seems to finally be coming closer and closer to fruition. Winning a National Championship had been on her mind since she’d first picked up a basketball. The minute she’d committed to UConn, it had felt inevitable and yet year after year, her team had fallen just a little short. But this afternoon, it seems like it’s finally within grasp. 14 seconds to go. 14 steps closer to having her perfect moment.

Except, every time Paige had imagined this moment, she’d expected her best friend to be there. In the beginning, before everything, she’d dreamed of them being on the court together, running into each other’s arms the minute the buzzer sounded. And then, until the last second today before she had to take the court, Paige had just assumed that when she’d look in the stands, somewhere in the crowd, there’d be the one face she wanted to see most in the world. But no matter how much she squinted, that face had been nowhere to be found and Paige had forced herself to compartmentalise her disappointment, and focus on the game. She hadn’t looked at the crowd since.

The ball is in the other team’s hands, their point guard, diligently calling out plays before she inbounds it. Coach’s words echo in Paige’s head, try for a clean steal but don’t under any circumstances foul. Their pg inbounds the ball and the shot clock starts to count down. The ball bounces through the hands of different players on the other team but the UConn defence is stifling. Their coach is out of timeouts and it isn’t until the last millisecond that they heave up a prayer shot. And it doesn’t matter if it goes in, it’s a two point possession game, but Paige’s eyes are glued on the basketball anyways.

The shot is an airball. The buzzer sounds through the arena. UConn wins their 12th national championship.

For a second, everything goes silent around Paige. The normally over-excitable girl, known for her insane golden retriever energy, is perfectly still. It takes a couple more seconds for the adrenaline to hit. And then she’s screaming, pummeling her body into the rest of her teammates as the bleed blue crowd goes wild. She loses herself in the noise of her teammates cheering and the bright lights of cameras flashing nearby. They did it. And it doesn’t erase just how fucking hard the last couple of year had been, but it makes the burden significantly lighter.

Paige rushes through the handshake line, the opposing team’s coach giving her an appreciative review of her performance before she’s recaptured into a group hug by her teammates. It’s a surreal feeling really, one that’s far better than even her most wonderful dreams. For the first time since the game began, Paige lets her gaze wander over to the family section who are all tearfully hugging, smiling at her parents and then her siblings and then-

When her eyes meet Azzi’s, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has finally settled into its rightful place, completing the perfect picture of Paige’s perfect moment. A #5 UConn jersey hangs loosely against Azzi’s hips as she smiles shyly at her best friend. And Paige is scared to blink, scared if she looks away, the girl in front of her will disappear. It takes everything in her to not rush into the stands, pull her best friend into her and kiss her under the confetti.

Azzi doesn’t budge when the rest of the family and friends crew start to move towards the court. There’s too much attention, too much media, for that to be a feasible option. Paige wishes they would all just disappear, let her have her moment the exact way she’d pictured it. She thinks she’d like to fulfil that dream of hers, kiss Azzi in the confetti, twirl her around, and between it all, let the world know that she was Paige’s.

As always, Drew is the first person to reach her. He’s a little too big for her to pick up, but she spins him around anyway.

“You won Paigey,” her little brother squeals and he might be older now, but that innocent admiration of his older sister is as palpable as always, “I knew you could do it!”

“Thanks for always believing in me, little dude,” Paige says softly, leaning her cheek against the top of Drew’s head.

Over the top of her brother's head, Paige realises with sudden panic that Azzi’s not there anymore. Dread filters into her bloodstream, the voices in her head screaming it was too good to be true. The way her body tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother who’s quick to hold her.

“She said to tell you she’d see you at the hotel later,” Amy Jo says with a knowing smile, before letting Paige’s body sag into hers. She rubs her daughter’s back as relief settles into the younger girl's features, “proud of you Paigey.”

Paige smiles into her mother’s chest. Last year had been the hardest of her life and for a while the light at the end of the tunnel had been hard to see. Today, she feels the light surrounding her, washing away all the darkness from the last few years, bathing her in the glow of happiness.

***

“I always knew you’d look good in a UConn jersey.”

Azzi’s eyes fly open and Paige smirks, leaning her body against the wall. The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind of media, champagne and excited chatter about what the after party would be like. Paige’s focus had been on celebrating, but the thought of getting back to Azzi had been a constantly lingering presence in the back of her mind. And as the bus had gotten closer to the hotel, anxiety had creeped in because what if Azzi wasn’t there? What if she’d changed her mind?

Paige had smiled for the fans outside the hotel, diligently posing for pictures and signing autographs, ignoring the heaviness in heart. But as soon as she was far away from prying eyes, she was bolting towards her room. And then everything was okay. Paige has heard a lot of cliché things about love, about how it makes you hear violins and see stars and all of that, about how it increases your heart rate and makes you flush. But Paige thinks all of that can’t quite be right. Because when she’d seen Azzi, curled up in her sheets, #5 jersey crumpled but still fitted around her body, Paige had only felt a sense of calm. And that Paige thinks, is probably the actual truth of love, it’s about finding peace and to Paige, Azzi has always been her peace.

“I’d look great in any jersey,” Azzi claps back groggily, moving to sit up.

“But you look the best in mine. You always have,” Paige tries to keep her voice teasing, but it comes out sounding rather wistful, and the next words are even softer, “you came.”

Azzi bites her lips, looking down at her fiddling thumbs, “you asked me to.”

Those four little words carve themselves into a little crevice in Paige’s heart as if they’ll stay there forever, as if they’ll echo through her entire body for the rest of time. She practically throws herself onto the younger girl, the force of it pushing Azzi back down into the pillows, as she buries her head in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Their legs slot together of their own accord and it’s a little bit like they’re trying to meld into each other’s skin the way they press themselves as close as possible, til there’s barely space for air in between them. They lie like that for god knows how long; it goes by in a rush and yet ever so slowly.

“I’m really fucking happy you’re here,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s skin, “really fucking happy.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, humming into Paige’s hair as she tightens her grip on the blonde’s waist but Paige can tell by the way she stiffens underneath her, that Azzi’s holding herself back from something. Her heart hammers in her chest as she lifts her face from Azzi’s neck to inspect the younger girl’s face.

“What aren’t you saying to me Az?” she whispers quietly with a sinking feeling.

“Paige,” Azzi closes her eyes. And just that is enough for Paige to understand exactly what’s going through her best friend’s head and suddenly she wishes she’d never asked, just let them have this moment.

“Never mind, I don't want to hear it.”

“That’s not how that works. I- I wanted to wait a little but we- we need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” Paige retorts stubbornly, fighting the tears threatening to spill, “I don’t want to.”

“Paige-”

The girl in question pushes herself off of Azzi, rising to sit on her knees, “this is meant to be the best day of my life Azzi.”

“I know- I’m sorr-”

“What game are you playing, Azzi? Why even fucking come if you were never gonna stay?” Paige spits out.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, as she sits up “maybe- maybe I should have stayed away. But it’s you Paige, it’s you and I- I’ve never been that good at staying away from you. And maybe I’m just really selfish but I- I told you once that I wanted to be there when your dreams came true and so- here I am.”

They’d barely known each other when Azzi had said that, when they had just been young innocent girls with a tentative friendship, lying in the grass and sharing their dreams. Back then, the words had thrown Paige off. She hadn’t quite understood why they had meant that much to her, why they had filled her with more warmth than the sun shining above them. But she’d tucked them away in a little corner of her heart hoping she’d understand it better when she was older. She’s older now and she understands. Except every single emotion she’d felt at fifteen is heightened with the realisation that the words had meant something to Azzi too. And-

Paige surges forward to kiss Azzi. She’s pretty sure this bipolar act of theirs will be the death of them someday but it’s the only thing in the moment that makes sense. Azzi is hesitant at first, clearly too in her head, always the overthinker, but she gives in when Paige squeezes at her waist. It’s not as if they’ve kissed that many times before but it feels familiar, a little bit like coming home. She moves to straddle Azzi’s hips and they can’t get any closer really with every bit of their bodies pressed together now, but Paige tries anyways, tries to etch please don’t leave me into the other girl’s skin. And she isn’t sure if the salt she can taste is from the tears steadily streaming from Azzi’s eyes or the ones free-falling from her own.

The minute Azzi pulls away, Paige misses her.

“We can’t-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Paige cuts Azzi off immediately, resting her forehead against the younger girl’s, “please.”

“Paige,” Azzi breathes out, “I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” Paige says stubbornly.

“Paige please-”

“Stay- fuck please- Azzi- just give me tonight. Tomorrow we can talk and you can-,” Paige swallows, not wanting to say leave out loud, “but please- tonight can we just pretend? Can you give me that? Fuck- can I just have tonight? Please- just- stay.”

Azzi lets out a shaky breath, “it won’t make it hurt less.”

“I know- fuck- I know but I just don’t want it to hurt right now.”

“Okay,” Azzi whispers slowly, thumb caressing Paige’s wet eyelashes, “okay, I’ll stay tonight.”

Paige kisses her again.

***

The UConn team falls in love with Azzi in a matter of hours. No one had been shocked when Paige had shown up to the after party a.k.a everybody gathering at the hotel bar, fashionably late and with a nervous Azzi teetering behind her. It had been awkward at first; everyone was a little unsure of how to act around the new presence. Not only was Azzi from a rival team, but everyone was at least a little aware of her tumultuous relationship with their star player. But then KK had wanted to film a tiktok that needed someone to do random camerawork and when everybody else had groaned, Azzi had quietly volunteered. Much to KK’s delight, Azzi turned out to be quite the cameraman. And that apparently was all that was needed and Paige marvels at the way Azzi just fits.

She moves around Paige’s team as if they’re just as much hers. One second she’s timing some stupid drinking game that KK and Ice are playing, the next she’s sitting in a corner laughing with a more subdued Ash and Q.

Aubrey and Ayanna gush over their girlfriend and Azzi’s coos over their pictures, a hint of wistfulness on her face when she meets Paige’s eyes.

The team does their routine of teasing Aaliyah’s about being vegetarian and Azzi diligently backs the Canadian up with a spiel of how tofu isn’t actually that bad. That gets her a hi-5 from Aaliyah despite the eye rolls from the rest of the team.

Despite being a little tipsy from having been dragged into doing shots with Amari and Carol, the two other people she knows pretty well, Azzi diligently lets Inés and Jana teach her little bits of Portuguese and Egyptian.

Even Nika sheds her frostiness, amused by Azzi’s curiosity to learn her native language beyond just the curse words, and teaches the younger girl a couple of words. Azzi rolls her eyes fondly when she realises she’s been taught to say UConn is the best team ever in Croatian and amidst Nika’s laughter, Paige knows is a hidden acceptance.

But the best part of it is that although Azzi’s suddenly being pulled in all different directions by various UConn girls, she never really leaves Paige’s side through it all. There’s always a little bit of them touching, whether it’s their shoulders or their knees, even when they’re both involved in completely different conversations and activities. It feels oddly domestic and Paige is reminded of the part after her state championship all over again. The burst of i want this forever that stirs in her chest makes her want to sob because it collides head first against a wall of this is only for tonight. And Paige knows that one night won’t ever be enough for her.

“Aye Paige’s girl, come play truth or shots with,” KK’s loud voice breaks through Paige’s cloud of distress and it’s eclipsed by the implication of those two words.

Paige’s girl. The phrases makes itself home in Paige’s heart, sounding so fucking right. She hasn’t let herself acknowledge it truly ever but that’s how it’s always been in Paige’s mind. It’s how she’s always thought of Azzi. As hers. Her Azzi. Her girl.

“I’m not-that’s not-” Azzi’s cheeks are tinted pink as she stutters through her words, withering under KK’s cocked eyebrow.

“Uh-okay if you say so,” KK rolls her eyes, holding her hands up in a sarcastic defensive position, “guess we’re starting off truth or shots by lying.”

The rest of the team laughs as Azzi’s blush grows even deeper and Paige can’t even try and hide her smile, her own neck tingling a little bit as she tucks herself into Azzi’s side. And it’s not real, they’re not anything, but in this moment it feels a little bit like they’re everything.

“You guys are sickening,” Ice accuses when she notices the two of them cheesily smiling at each other, “it makes me gag.”

“They’re cute. Leave them alone,” Caroline chastises, ever the supportive friend.

Azzi leans back against Paige’s arm as the group goes around the circle, asking each other ridiculous questions, cheering like little kids when their teammates opts to drink instead of answering a vaguely invasive question. When it’s her turn, Paige can already tell by the glint in KK’s eyes that her menace mini-me is about to cause trouble.

“Paigey cakes, when’s the last time you had sex?”

Next to her, Paige can feel Azzi stiffen immediately. The shot feels heavy in Paige’s hand as she seriously contemplates taking it. She knows why KK asked the question, probably having concocted some idea of exposing Paige and Azzi. She’d known by the waggling eyebrows that the whole team had thought the two of them were late because they’d been fucking but that couldn’t be further from the bitter truth.

Paige chances a look at Azzi’s face as she bites down on her lips. The younger girl’s face is stoically devoid of any emotion and Paige knows she’s thinking about the night of the crash (or as Paige likes to call it, the most terrifying night of her life) except-

“November, last year,” Paige says slowly and Azzi whips her face around to look at her, lips falling apart in shock.

“Don’t play, there’s no fucking way,” Ice guffaws and Paige shrugs.

“It’s the truth.”

“Bruh what the fuck,” KK looks a little shell-shocked, “how the fuck did you survive that long?”

“Some of us actually know what to do with our own fingers,” Paige quips defensively, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach at the way Azzi’s still looking at her.

“I bet Azzi knows all about your fingers huh Azzi?” and even that, KK’s unhinged commentary, isn’t enough to get Azzi to pull her gaze away from Paige. It’s almost as if she hadn’t heard it all.

“You didn’t- that night?” Azzi manages to get out.

“Couldn’t do it,” Paige mumbles, “she wasn’t you.”

Despite the horde of people around them, they’re in their own little bubble now. There are a multitude of questions swimming in Azzi’s eyes and Paige wants to answer all of them if it means that maybe just maybe, she could prevent the inevitable misery tomorrow would bring.

“Okay Azzi, it’s your turn,” Amari’s voice draws Azzi’s attention away and Paige feels cold without the heat of it. She doesn’t know how she’ll survive tomorrow. Living in the present isn’t working and Paige finds herself already feeling the emptiness she knows will become her reality in a couple of hours. Her fingers tap an incessant pattern on her thigh as she tries to keep her focus on the game,

Azzi swallows nervously before mustering up a grin with false confidence, “I’m ready. Hit me with your best, I’m not drinking.”

“We’ll see about that,” KK smirks, diabolically rubbing her hands together, before she turns to Nika, “all yours Nik-Nik.”

The other girls “ooh”, knowing Nika’s reputation for being notoriously good at this game. The Croatian grins at Azzi, as she sits up from where she’d been lazily lying on the love seat, a glint of mischief in her eyes. And then her eyes meet the forlorn ones of her twin and something shifts. When she looks back at Azzi, there’s a more serious look on Nika’s face.

“Have you ever been in love?”

There’s pin drop silence once the gravity of the question registers. The light-hearted air in the room is replaced with anticipation, as all of Paige’s teammates look back and forth between their point guard and her best friend. Paige isn’t sure if she wants to know the answer, doesn’t know if there’s an answer that wouldn’t break her heart just a little bit. For a second, it looks like Azzi’s going to drink until she puts the shot down on her hand rest until-

“Yes,” she confesses in a whisper, and Paige feels her heart begin to race, “I have.”

“How many times?” Nika prods

“That’s not how the game works. I already answered your question.”

“Different rules for newcomers,” Nika shrugs. It’s a blatant lie but nobody says anything. Paige is still caught up in her own head and the other girls won't challenge Nika, not when they’re just as curious, “I get to ask questions til you drink.”

Azzi narrows her eyes, knowing it’s all bullshit and maybe if she wasn’t a little bit tipsy and competitive, maybe if she couldn’t feel every inch of Paige’s side pressed against her, she’d walk away but she can’t.

“Only once,” she answers.

“With your ex-girlfriend?” Nika asks. The way she raises an eyebrow suggests there’s only one right answer to the question. Paige doesn’t know if there’s a right or wrong answer, only that there’s an answer that would shatter her.

“No. I was never in love with her,” Azzi directs the answer towards Nika, but everyone knows it’s meant for Paige’s ears. And despite the tornado still roaring in her body, the blonde lets out a sigh of relief.

Nika’s intimidating demeanour cracks a little bit when that answer makes her smile, “are you in love with someone right now?”

Even if it’s not said out loud, the implication of Nika’s question, the someone, is clear. And suddenly Paige doesn’t want to hear the answer, not right now, not when they’re both a little tipsy, not when they’re surrounded by all her teammates, not when their future is so unclear.

“Drink,” Paige cuts in, holding the shot in front of Azzi, “don’t answer it.”

“Paige-”

“Drink Azzi,” Paige says firmly.

Azzi looks equal parts relieved and frustrated as she downs the drink, happy to have gotten out of the uncomfortable round of questioning but a little annoyed at losing in front of the UConn girls.

“And you said you wouldn’t drink,” Nika sneers, as she hi-5’s her teammates.

“Because you bent the rules; she did great,” Paige defends immediately and everyone snickers, the mood in the room returning to something more casual.

“So fucking pussywhipped,” Ice teases.

“Shut up,” Paige whines, hiding her face against Azzi’s shoulder as everybody else laughs. If the voices in head screaming this is just for tonight would shut up for a second, Paige thinks maybe she could fall in love with this moment, surrounded by her found family.

It’s almost 3 am when the team decides maybe they should start going to bed, knowing they have a morning flight back to Connecticut. Everyone else is still in a jovial mood, sufficiently drunk of both alcohol and the high of a championship but Paige’s stomach pools with dread. Every minute is a step closer to a goodbye, she’ll never be prepared to say.

They get to the lobby of the hotel when Paige turns to Azzi, ignoring her anxiety to be a nuisance instead.

“No,” Azzi says immediately when she sees Paige making grabby hands at her, “there’s literally an elevator Paige.”

“So? That just makes it easier for you. This is tradition.”

“In what world is this a tradition?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly.

“Since I won the state championship,” Paige grins, “pleeeeease, I’m tired, my feet hurt.”

Azzi gives her an unimpressed look, “you’ve been sitting for the last couple of hours.”

“And before that I was winning a championship, after beating your team by the way,” Paige’s smirk widens when Azzi guffaws at catching a stray.

“Oh fuck off. Reminding me of that is not the way to get me to carry you by the way.”

“C’mon Az, you know you’re gonna give in anyway. You know you wanna sleep, stop wasting time.”

Azzi rolls her eyes with a dramatic sight before doing exactly what she always does, giving into Paige, “hop on then you big baby.”

Paige cheers, latching on Azzi’s back as her knees circle around the other girl’s waist. Unlike when they were younger, Azzi’s doesn’t stumble anymore at the additional weight. She’s stronger now, completely solid and steady underneath Paige and that absolutely doesn’t trigger any inappropriate thoughts in the older girl’s brains, absolutely.

“Y’all are so cringe,” KK crinkles up her face when she turns to look at them as they wait for the elevator, but there’s a certain amount of fondness in her voice, “but Azzi’s cool. Much cooler than you P boogers. You should bring her around more often.”

Paige’s smile vanishes in tandem with Azzi letting out a strangled noise. KK looks between the two of them, slowly realising maybe she’d just put her foot in her mouth.

“Yeah, maybe,” Paige answers noncommittally, trying to keep her voice steady.

Much to her relief, the elevator dings open, saving her from having to say anything more. She wraps her arms tighter around Azzi, burying her face as far into the other girl’s neck as she can and closing her eyes, trying to lose herself in Azzi, instead of in the jail of her own mind.

She doesn’t look up from where she’s nestled into Azzi’s skin, when the rest of her teammates start towards their own separate rooms, telling Azzi how lovely it was to meet her.

“Can you get off her back, so I can give her a hug?” Ice pinches Paige’s arm but the older girl just shrugs her off.

“No. Go hug someone else.”

“Bro you’re so fucking annoying,” Ice groans and Azzi sends her an apologetic wink but it doesn’t go unnoticed that she doesn’t try to shake Paige off like she normally would. It heals something in Paige to know that Azzi doesn’t want to let go either. And she doesn’t understand why they’re doing this, why they’re fighting this, when neither of them want to.

“I think your teammates might like me better than you,” Azzi teases when they finally get back to the room and Paige climbs off of her back. The blonde is too lost in her thoughts to come back with a smart quip. And of course her best friend notices it immediately, nudging her quietly, “P? You good?”

Paige blinks up at Azzi, and even before she says the word, she knows Azzi’s already read them in her eyes, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs tiredly, “what happened to pretending tonight?”

“Fuck pretending,” Paige blames the alcohol for how loud her voice comes out, guilty only because it makes the girl in front of her flinch, “I don’t want just tonight. It’s no where near fucking enough. I want forever. With you.”

“That’s not- Paige- we live on different sides of the country.”

“For now, but we can make it work. It’s us,” Paige pleads desperately.

Azzi scoffs, stepping away from Paige, “you say that like it a good thing.”

“What-”

“Us! We don’t- it’s not- being ‘us’ is not a good thing Paige. May us from before but us now? Us now is complicated and messy and hard and I just- I can’t do this Paige.”

“You can- we can- Azzi- just- think about it okay- sleep on it- you’ll see. You’ll see, I’m right.”

Azzi shakes her head, closing her eyes as a single teardrop leaks out, “you’re making this so fucking hard Paige.”

“I don’t want to- I’m sorry- I’m so sorry baby,” the term of endearment slips through Paige’s lips before she can catch it, “but I need you to think about it once please.”

She moves to cup Azzi’s cheeks, thumb caressing away the tears, “please.”

“Okay, okay,” Azzi nods, resting her forehead against Paige’s, “I’ll think about it.”

They’re quiet as they get changed for bed, thinking about the same thing. Co-existing together comes naturally to them after years of inhabiting each other’s space and the. there's no getting in each other’s way, even if they’re both dead silent. It’s awkward when they finally get into bed, both of them lying on their back, resolutely staring up at the ceiling. Paige is the first one to move, turning onto her side so she can face Azzi. The moon shines against Azzi’s face and Paige thinks that so much has changed, but Azzi’s still that kind of beautiful, the same kind of beautiful Paige had thought of her as since the state championship.

“What was your answer going to be,” she asks quietly.

“To what?”

“To Nika’s question. Are you in love with someone right now?”

Azzi hesitates a little bit, before turning her own body to face Paige, “you know the answer Paige, you don’t need me to say it.”

Paige doesn’t prod, knowing they were too volatile for her to keep pushing. Instead she reaches over to intertwine their hands together.

“Do you know what my answer would have been?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says softly, squeezing her hands, “yeah I do.”

Maybe there’s peace in knowing. Or maybe there’s only more pain. Paige doesn’t know if the truth sets her free, doesn’t know if she could ever even be set free from the shackles that bind her to Azzi, doesn’t think she even wants to be set free. But at least Azzi knows too. Maybe there’s peace in drowning together.

***

Paige wakes up in a panic when she reaches over and finds the other side of the bed empty. She gets up with a jolt, eyes frantically searching for Azzi, until they finally land on the girl sitting on the couch next to the bed.

“Fuck,” Paige’s voice is still wracked with sleep, “I thought you left.”

“That’s more your style,” Azzi says and Paige flinches at the reminder, “how’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. How about you?”

“Pretty shit actually” Azzi admits, “I woke up every two seconds, scared you’d be gone.”

“Az-”

“You asked me to believe in you- to believe in us and I-” Azzi draws in a sharp breath and Paige knows she’s not going to like where this is going, “I want to- I really, really, wish I could. But I don’t. I can’t- I can’t be with you Paige- not when I’m scared you’re going to break my heart every second.”

“Azzi,” Paige scrambles across the bed, stopping when the girl in question holds her hands up. Everything in her feels like it’s on fire. There are no burn marks on her skin but she swears she’s been turned to ashes underneath.

“And you deserve better than that too Paige. You deserve someone who- who’s not scared. Who can give you all of herself without- without holding back and I- I can’t do that.”

“You can- fuck- Azzi you can- please,” desperation leaks through every syllable as Paige fights what she knows is a losing battle.

“Not right now. Too much has happened between us and we can’t- we can’t just ignore all of that and start something new- maybe someday- but not right now.”

Azzi stands up from her seat, hesitantly walking over to Paige’s side of the bed. She cups Paige’s face, watery dark brown eyes meeting crystal blue ones that are glistening with tears.

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, feeling everything slip away before she’d even had a chance to fight for it.

Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s forehead, holding them there for what feels like the briefest of seconds until she’s pulling away, “I’m sorry P.”

And then she’s gone and every part of Paige’s heart is gone with her.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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